


Despite the Constellations

by librariankiss



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, M/M, Minor Loki/Fandral, Virgin Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11749068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/librariankiss/pseuds/librariankiss
Summary: And so, on what was Loki’s second visit to the Hall of Asgard since the day that he came of age, it was announced that Prince Tony and Prince Loki were to be wed, and with this betrothal came an arrangement of friendship between House Stark and the House of Odin in perpetuity. And Loki wouldn’t have found this public announcement embarrassing, as such, had he not been found by Tony afterward while he was vomiting in the courtyard.





	1. Politics

**Author's Note:**

> A poll I ran on [my Twitter](https://twitter.com/librariankiss) instructed me to post this before the next chapter of [Conflicts of Interest](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6238222/chapters/14293525) so here you go! So remember that you can always tell me what to do over there.
> 
> This fic was originally going to be a one-shot but the word count got WAY ridiculous for that, so I've split it into three. Hope you guys don't mind!

The young prince was prone to nightmares. He was told to no end of bravery, of how the heart of a king saw no hesitation, but he never seemed to find the strength of which his father spoke.

The worst nights were those after the tournaments. With the cheers of the crowd still caught in his ears, young Loki was kept awake by the memories of blood and the glint of blades in the sunlight, by the growls of aging warriors and the boasts of those recently given their titles. The firelight painted devils in the semi-darkness, and when sleep found him it found him with teeth.

“There’s no shame in nightmares, Loki,” said his mother, the gentle Frigga. She wrapped his blankets around his shoulders as she spoke. She did this every night, insisting that the cold must be cutting. Loki had once tried to tell her that he never noticed the cold, but she had hushed him with the instruction that he never say such things.

“But,” said Loki, “Father said—”

“Your father is wise, but he should know better the value of dreams. They tell us those things that we would never otherwise admit to ourselves.”

She told him the same story that she always did, the story of the killer who thought he was doing right.

“But if he wasn’t a criminal, why did he think that?” Loki knew the answer, but he asked the question every night.

“The killer was a longtime adviser to the king, and he wanted to do what was right for his people, and he lost his way. He had been tasked with many things over the years. He thought he knew what he was doing. But, he made a mistake.”

“He killed a man of the king’s court.”

Mother nodded. “They were holding a feast in celebration of the eldest prince. His brother, a blind man, offered aid. But the adviser played a cruel trick, and the blind prince killed his brother.”

Loki chewed his thumbnail. Father would tell him not to do this, but Mother never admonished him for it.

“The king found out, and it tore up his heart. The king loves all his warriors and all members of the court. And he loved this adviser like a brother. When the adviser fled, the king sent his best warriors to find him and let justice be done.” She smiled, tightening the blankets around Loki’s shoulders and sealing his arms inside. “The adviser, a skilled sorcerer, turned into a fish and swam away up the river until he came to a waterfall and hid within. But one of the king’s sons found him. He grabbed the adviser with one motion, and he couldn’t wriggle free.”

Loki tried to wriggle free of his blankets at the word. The heat of the fire was getting to him. His mother didn’t allow it.

“They took the adviser to a cave and bound him within. Snakes lined the cave, and their venom would drip upon him. All day and every day, he was to feel the pain of that venom. But, the king’s once adviser was blessed. He had a wife. He loved her with all of his heart, and she loved him in return.”

Loki frowned. He didn’t like this part.

“His wife swore never to leave his side,” said Mother. “She sat by him and caught the burning venom in a bowl. It was only when the bowl was full and she went to empty it that he was left alone and he felt the pain that he was meant to. And he would never let her see that pain, for he wanted to match her strength. They spent out their years in that cave together. The once adviser had made his mistake, but his punishment could never be absolute for he had the love of someone…” She rested a hand on his chest. Adorning one of her fingers was a wedding band, hard as stone. “He had the love of someone with absolute faith in him.”

“He still tricked the prince into killing his brother,” said Loki. He wondered if one of Father’s advisers wished to kill him. The adviser in the story wanted to prove that the prince's arrogance was of detriment to the kingdom, though, so...

“Yes, he did,” said Mother. She was almost whispering. “But you see, Loki, it doesn’t matter who you are. Be you prince, warrior, adviser, merchant, or thief. The greatest strength that a man can have is the strength in his heart. It is that which saves us, in the end.” She smiled, placing a kiss atop his head. “You must try to sleep now, small one, and I must see your brother.”

Loki nodded. He lay down on his bed. The tight tangle of blankets kept him immobile. Mother chuckled and helped to release him.

“Mother?” said Loki, when she was some distance to the door.

“Yes, Loki?”

“Does Father have strength in his heart?” This was his favorite question.

“More than any king before him,” said Mother, “for it is you and your brother who grant it to him.”

Loki hid his smile behind his hands. His mother departed, the door falling shut with weight behind her. Loki wrestled himself free of the blankets completely and threw them all onto the floor.

The young prince awoke in the middle of the night, tied to his bed by a dream of being trapped in a cave. The firelight painted devils, and the prince was alone.

*

They expected foolishness from Loki. He was young, not yet of age, and to make rash decisions and injure his standing was some rite of passage built into the structure of it all. Still, Loki wondered where Thor’s foolhardy nature came from. It matched neither one of their parents. He tried to see what let Thor be so reckless, so immune to considering his behavior. He had taken so many blows to the face that surely he could see them coming. Loki could.

Loki had no interest in death-or-glory sport. That was why he was so eager to avoid today’s tournament, the first since his brother came of age, despite this one having no matches to the death. He sat on the floor of Heimdall’s observatory, observing the Gatekeeper carefully. Heimdall, up but a few steps and yet towering over Loki, hadn’t deigned to look at him since he arrived. He was shrouded in the same golden armor as always. It was grand attire. Without strength, it would weigh on the bones.

“Have you heard the concerns about the so called merchant king?” Heimdall asked. It was the first time he had spoken since Loki arrived.

“I’ve heard his name,” returned Loki, voice quiet.

“Yes. Howard Stark.” Heimdall said it grandly. “Asgardian, his people are, and yet so far away that their names are a world apart. Their speech rather differs, too. It’s fascinating.”

“I’m sure.” After all these years, Loki was still hesitant when he spoke with Heimdall, and he’d not have to admit it for Heimdall to know. 

“Mm. Well, you do hear stories.” And, finally, Heimdall turned around. “They say that these people are descended from Midgardians granted our lifespan after generations of friendship with Asgard. But, when these people couldn’t adapt to life here, they took to villages on the outskirts of the land, to trade routes, and to the water, and became the best mercantile collective in the Nine Realms. Their ability to travel between Realms is certainly … unrivalled. I’m not sure how they…”

It was there that he trailed off. If he was going to say that he was unsure how they so easily accessed Asgard without the use of the Bifrost, then Loki doubted the honesty of it. Even Loki had some idea of how they might achieve it.

“I know that story,” Loki said. “And Howard claims to be king of these merchants?”

“They’ve certainly come to respect him as a king. And why would they not? These people do not live bound to Asgard.” Heimdall smiled. “Though, they do seem most eager to avoid Midgard. Perhaps, Your Highness, they don’t wish to be called Midgardian. They are all Asgardian by blood, whatever the story.”

“Forgive me, Gatekeeper, but why are you telling me this?”

Heimdall shrugged. “It had been silent too long. Your breathing was irritating me.”

Loki looked down at the floor. He could hear Heimdall’s approaching footsteps. He relented and looked up only when Heimdall was standing right beside him. It was with one swift movement that Heimdall sat. It was impressive. That armor was bulky. Loki could hear it clang as it hit the floor.

“I say concern, but for the time being that concern is minimal,” said Heimdall. “These people respect Howard Stark as their king because he leads them. The issue is that, a descendant of Midgardians or not, he was born in Asgard. Odin wants no ill will.”

“Mm.” Loki laced his fingers together. He found that he was looking once again the floor. “You see a great deal, Heimdall, and I don’t just mean in overseeing the Nine Realms.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” said Heimdall. His tone was gentle as if he were trying to placate some wild animal. “I do wonder sometimes if there’s some greatness to which I should be aspiring, but then I have the same role as the adviser in that favorite story of yours, and _he_ ran headlong into his trickery as if he saw nothing.”

Loki picked at some dirt which was lodged under his nails. He never could stand the state of such grime. “That man killed one prince, and traumatized a second, despite the hospitality of the royal house. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew the consequences.”

“I always thought the same when I heard that story,” said Heimdall. He cleared his throat. “So tell me, Your Highness, are you here solely to avoid attending the tournament?”

Loki’s jaw clenched.

“Now, now. No need for anger. I know that you never enjoyed learning to fight, but this is an important day for your brother.” Heimdall rested a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “Will you not be taking part in such events when you come of age?”

“I’m no warrior,” said Loki to his dirty nails. He wanted to let out a bitter laugh. He lacked the confidence. “Fandral says that I take on a woman’s role.” And it had felt … odd, certainly, to hear his childhood friend say that, and with such … intrigue.

Heimdall chuckled. “If watching from the sidelines is the role of a woman, then I have definitely taken it. And clearly there’s no shame in doing so, or I’d have heard some criticism for my actions by now.”

Loki smiled.

“You should go and see your brother,” said Heimdall. “With all due respect, it is what I advise. This is important to him, and this is no bloodthirsty match of barbarians. That’s not Asgard, Your Highness.” Heimdall took a deep, slow breath. “Peace is important to all of us, as I know it is important to you. That is why you’re so drawn to that story of yours. These events of ours are not about glory. They are to teach us restraint. If a man can’t learn that amongst friends, then how can he hope to have it in battle?”

Loki frowned at the Gatekeeper. He was skeptical, to say the least.

“I’m no warrior either, Your Highness, but there is honor in many pursuits. And I think we can both agree that your brother could do with learning a little restraint.”

Loki could agree with that. Not scornfully, of course. Just out of the wish that he’d one day be done with the days of saving Thor and retiring to his room while Thor took the credit for heroism that Loki didn’t need. Thor could, and should, be a hero on his own. That was certainly what their father seemed to be pushing him towards.

Heimdall stood and, perhaps because he had grown accustomed to the man sitting beside him, Loki felt suddenly eclipsed by his height. He accepted Heimdall’s outstretched hands and was helped to his feet. He brushed at his clothing, though he saw no dirt on any of it.

“Thank you,” Loki said.

Heimdall nodded. “And you. On your way.”

Loki returned the nod and exited the observatory. Given how often he made this walk, he did find that he hated it. He shouldn’t be out on the Bifrost. Father said he was too young. Heimdall was affording him liberties. And crossing this bridge never did feel safe. Somehow, despite having walked it a thousand times, Loki felt as if he could fall off this bridge at any moment.

As he walked, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Heimdall was watching him. And with that look, Loki got the feeling that Heimdall was growing to dislike him. He was growing very good at spotting that as well.

The event had yet to begin. Loki always arose obscenely early the morning following a nightmare, and he had bothered Heimdall as soon as was appropriate. Loki found Thor’s tent with ease and was allowed entry with no question. He noticed as he entered a rip in the side of the tent, though he did choose not to question its origin.

“Brother!”

It was an inelegant bellow from Thor. Before Loki had the chance to respond, he was being crushed by one of his brother’s hugs. Thor put the strength of a bear to shame.

“Are you running cold?” said Thor.

“Hello, brother,” said Loki, somewhat breathless. He could see a smiling Fandral standing on the other side of the tent, his blond hair perfectly arranged.

Thor released him, his own disheveled blond hair scratching Loki’s face as he pulled away. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Loki nodded. “As did I.”

Thor faltered. His eyes searched Loki. Then, suddenly, he grinned and slapped Loki on the shoulder. “Still, no matter! You’re here now! And we have a victory to strive for.”

He strode with some theater across the tent and sat at his table, slamming his fist upon it. Fandral, smiling, shook his head. He crossed his arms.

“Your brother has been giving me something of a headache,” he said. “And he still has no elegance with a sword. To think that one would slash his own tent on the day of his first tournament.”

“Oh, is that what that is?”

“It is indeed,” said Fandral. “Still, he’s but one Odinson. Perhaps _you_ received all your father’s restraint.” He rested a hand on the table and looked pointedly at Thor.

Thor shook his head, letting out that deep laugh of his. People tents away could surely hear it. Fandral grinned, a glint in his eye, and took a seat opposite his friend. And, for some reason, with yellow straw on the ground, the brown wood of the table, the red and silver of Thor’s clothing and the green and gold of Fandral’s, this would remain one of the memories most colorful in Loki’s mind.

*

It took some persistence, but Loki was able to convince Odin to share more information about these merchants. Frigga seemed hesitant. Loki’s father, on the other hand, seemed to feel that if he didn’t tell Loki, then Heimdall would do so in his stead.

“Heimdall should not have told you any of this,” said Odin. They were standing together on Odin’s favorite balcony. Sunlight glinted off some buildings below and seared off others. “But, if he does insist.”

These merchants were perhaps what Heimdall described in origin. Their origin wasn’t Odin’s concern. The concern was their strong relationship with Nidavellir. Its strength was unrivaled. And, as Odin reported, they had been developing weaponry  _with_ the Dwarven Smiths of the Realm. What was this weaponry? A mystery. What they intended to do with it was equally so. But Odin considered the Dwarves friends and the same peacemakers that they tried to be. Would he consider these merchants the same?

King Howard Stark Himself (Your Grace, by aged title) was supposedly a genius. Odin said that he wanted to see some of the things that he had designed during his career, as to him they sounded marvelous. He wasn’t the first Stark to be called “merchant king” but he was the first to have this much of a reputation. His wife had passed. He had two children, one a son by blood and the other a young woman he had taken into his home. Their names were Prince Anthony and Lady Virginia, but apparently were referred to as Tony and Pepper. Loki chose not to question that, but it did interest him.

“I hear most stories, perhaps, about Prince Tony. He has quite the reputation.” When Loki frowned questioningly, Odin said, “I don’t wish to spread unfavorable stories, but Tony does not have the best reputation as a politician. He has a reputation as a partygoer, and I … I dislike the word ‘licentious,’ but it’s the word that I’ve heard.” He sighed. “The story is that Lady Virginia is a sharp woman, taken in as a replacement heir. But Tony is older, so don’t ask me what His Grace wishes to do there.”

“Do you consider Howard Stark to be in an act of rebellion?” Loki asked. He was far too aware of the softness of his voice.

“Is that what you’ve heard?”

“I’ve heard some say that he is. He was born in Asgard, and yet carries the name ‘merchant king’ when you are the king of this Realm,” said Loki. And he looked at his father as he said it. The sight below was hurting his eyes. He had realized, some time ago now, that he had done as Thor had and taken Odin over in height.

“He was given that title by his people, and that is admirable. For a man with no such birthright to gain that respect is admirable, Loki. It’s not rebellion, the power of Howard Stark, but it is something to keep in mind.” He sighed. “Though we would be naive to think without question that they are as peaceful as we are.”

Mm. Peaceful. Despite Asgard’s reputation, surely not every people could see the people of Asgard as Peacekeepers. It was to achieve peace that they went to war with the Frost Giants, but those Frost Giants, described by many as barbarians, more than likely turned those stories of barbarism on their head.

“So your choice is to respect that he is a king?” It probably sounded like a demand. Loki hadn’t intended it as one.

“Heimdall shouldn’t have told you what he did.”

“It was … a time ago that he told me.”

“I know. To think how swiftly time escapes us,” Odin murmured. Then, with confidence, “We are not merchants, Loki, and you know this. Our trade with the Dwarves was waning until Howard Stark’s people revived it, and now we are comfortable again. And that is just one way in which they have helped us.” Odin smiled. “Yes, I respect him as a king. A king of his merchant people.”

“Do you wish for Howard Stark to be an ally, Father?”

The look that his father gave him was so burning it nearly sent Loki keeling off the balcony. But it was with a gentle voice that he said, “I fear that he has more control of the outskirts of Asgard than I do, and better rapport with the Dwarves. It would do us no disservice.”

Loki nodded.

“Regardless,” said Odin. He placed a hand firmly on Loki’s shoulder. “If he is willing to be a _friend_ , then that is important. We can’t be preoccupied with tactics and outsmarting others. Does your favorite story not teach that?”

Again, Loki nodded. He was surprised that Odin knew which story was his favorite.

Odin smiled. He shook his head. “Heimdall really should not have told you what he did. But, it’s because he did that I’ve told you this now. Do you understand?”

Loki frowned. “Yes, Father.”

“Good.” He clapped Loki’s shoulder twice. “And you’ll be of age soon. Old enough to inherit, should it come to it.” He smirked and leaned down. “Of marriageable age. Is that not a frightening thought?”

“I suppose that it is.”

“Mm. You’re a young man now, Loki. You certainly have the smarts of one.” Odin brushed at Loki’s shoulder as if there was dirt there. “If I tell you something, will you swear to keep it a secret until it’s announced publicly?”

Loki swallowed. His throat was dry. He felt suddenly the real height of the balcony on which they stood. He didn’t know why he felt quite so daunted by the question, so, as if it were nothing, “Of course, Father.”

Odin smiled. “And I do tell you only because I fear that Heimdall would tell you anyway.”

“I doubt that he would,” said Loki.

“Perhaps,” said Odin with a chuckle. Then, suddenly, he was serious. “As soon as I’m able, I wish to invite Howard Stark and some of his people to be a guest in our home. To extend the hand of friendship! Perhaps the only obstacle is that their love of travel makes them difficult to contact, but at least Heimdall knows where they are.”

Loki nodded. He placed a hand on the stone railing beside him. “It is a … nice gesture. Do you believe that they will accept?”

“I do,” said Odin. “My communications with His Grace have been limited up to now, but I believe we have enough goals in common. And enough…” He assessed Loki, for just a moment. “You do trust my judgment, don’t you?”

Loki swallowed. He felt rather sick. “Always.”

“Thank you, my son.” And then suddenly he was grinning. “But before all this, Loki, we must celebrate you coming of age. I take it that you won’t be celebrating in the way that your brother did?”

Loki caught a flash of memory. Thor, laughing, returning to his tent with a shining bruise that covered half his face. He shook his head.

“No matter,” said Odin. “We will think of something. Your mother celebrated the day that she reached marriageable age with a poetry reading.”

Loki nodded. Knowing that about his mother already, he tried not to smile.

“There really is no shame in it,” said Odin. His tone was so gentle that it seemed almost condescending, but perhaps that was in Loki’s head. “Perhaps you and I disagree on the purpose of such events, but if you don’t believe in a fight then you should walk away from it. That is what we all must learn.”

*

When the day of celebration arrived, Odin announced in the Hall of Asgard that his youngest son was of age. Before it even came to the planned celebratory feast (which, Loki suspected, many would only attend for the festival of it) Loki was grabbed by Thor and dragged away from the proceedings. It was far away that they met with Fandral, who had secured a bag full of books for which he knew Loki had a great deal of hatred. They spent the night throwing these books into a dirty pool of rough smelling water inside a cave.

*

In the end, the invitation was successful. After a delay caused by—well, Odin wouldn’t say—that sent everything _months_ behind schedule, finally they arrived. The event called for formal wear. For Loki, this meant unearthing his golden horned helmet. He seemed to be wearing it with more frequency as time went on. He wasn’t sure whether or not this distressed him. The Warriors Three—Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun all—accompanied Loki and Thor as they prepared for the greeting. Thor aside, Loki was certainly distressed by their constant presence.

It felt almost as if Odin was hiding them, for they were directed straight to the Hall of Asgard where the ostentatious ceremony of the welcome would take place. They’d not see the Stark company arrive. Instead, they had to find exactly their place and stand in waiting until Odin arrived with the guests.

The grand, oversized golden building was just as intimidating as it had always been. Loki remembered being a small child and squinting up at the ceiling, imagining it being worlds away. It must be a conflicting decision, deciding whether or not to invite a guest into this hall. To do so might make it seem like you were trying to intimidate, but to invite them into a lesser building might be taken as an insult.

“So, Loki,” said Volstagg quietly. “Explain to me the helmet.”

Loki turned to him, indeed feeling the weight of the helmet with every movement. He smiled. “Explain to me the beard.”

Said beard had grown longer than was reasonable, in Loki’s opinion. It had dwarfed Volstagg’s face. Of course, Loki was the only man in their group with no love for (or real ability to grow) facial hair. In response to the comment, Volstagg growled and turned away. Thor, standing on Loki’s other side, chuckled. This was more than generous, considering that Loki’s response hadn’t been the least bit funny.

They were silenced by an official start to the proceedings. Loki felt suddenly crushed by the crowd of guards around him. All in gold colored armor. It was strange, but through everything, the thing that Loki latched onto was the sound of Thor’s breathing. He could hear the laughter of that tournament, the day that Thor came of age. He could see the bright color of the tent in his mind’s eye.

The company that arrived with Howard Stark was small. King Howard had two advisers whom he reportedly trusted without question. (Loki had in his mind this horrible image of a fish swimming upstream.) One of these advisers, Lady Margaret, had remained in Nidavellir. But Sir Henry Pym—Hank, as these people seemed so fond of giving each other such names—was here, and walked beside Howard Stark pointedly as if the two wouldn’t be separated. He was garbed in light armor of a black and red design. He had the same grayed hair as Howard Stark, the same wrinkles around his eyes, but his features were softer. Except, that was, for one moment when he looked at King Howard, and Loki was convinced he witnessed a flash of anger.

The two who Loki guessed were Howard Stark’s children, both of whom were clearly older than Thor, were at the back of the group. Not that it was difficult to spot them. Prince Tony stood out like Loki’s helmet would in Midgard. He was a dark haired and dark eyed man dressed in red and gold leather, waving theatrically and blowing kisses to Asgard’s stern guards. Presumably, this was  _because_ they looked so stern. That was, admittedly, rather amusing.

The woman beside Tony, whose hair was tied up and who had to be Lady Virginia “Pepper” Potts, seemed rather less amused by his conduct. As did the man in heavy gray armor standing at Tony’s side. Their other guard figure, a man the size of the bear, looked as happy to be here as Loki felt. They were Sir James Rhodes and Sir Harold, though Loki didn’t know which was which.

Odin stood on the same level as Howard Stark. It created a feeling of them being equals, though the speech that he gave was similar to so many speeches that Loki had heard him give before. Mother stood beside him, her fingers clasped in front of her.

Howard Stark seemed tired. Slightly haggard. There was a weight on his shoulders. Years of … something. He wasn’t wearing armor that masked or forced a posture to hide anything. But there was something. Perhaps Loki was imagining it. Perhaps he couldn’t possibly be standing close enough to see it. But something in Howard Stark’s eyes was bothering Loki. Something.

“Do you know much about his children?” Thor asked suddenly in Loki’s ear.

Loki frowned. He knew that he should say nothing. “Just … that he has them.”

“I hear that Tony Stark is rather good at a party,” said Thor.

Loki smirked. “I’m sure that you’ll be great friends.”

“I don’t know,” said Thor. His eyes wandered to where Tony and Pepper were standing. “He seems more interested in you, brother.”

Loki could make no response as at that moment he felt a sharp pain in his back. Thor seemed to feel the same, as he turned at the same time as Loki to see Sif standing behind them. With her dark hair flowing loose and her gold dress catching whatever breeze was in here, she would have been a picture of grace. Her glare betrayed her.

“With respect,” she said sternly under her breath.

When Thor and Loki turned back to the proceedings in front of them, they were committed to quiet. Loki wanted to investigate Thor’s claim that Tony had some interest him—what interest might that form take? He was prevented from looking, however, when Odin gestured to Loki and his brother. Loki nodded his head as Howard did the same. He did like this helmet, but sometimes he wondered if it was worth the weight that came with it.

Loki looked at Tony Stark. He was scratching his cheek—and this man could certainly teach the people of Asgard something about the appropriate amount of facial hair. Even with the distance between them, it was clear that Tony was looking right at Loki.

“I think it’s that helmet of yours,” said Volstagg. “The staring.”

He stumbled and glowered as Sif poked him in the back of the neck, though even she made the comment, “It’s no worse than Heimdall’s,” under her breath. Thor chuckled. Hogun, the steadfast warrior who hadn’t moved a muscle since they arrived at the hall, allowed himself a smile. Loki wanted to flee, but he looked back at Tony Stark and waved.

Tony Stark shook the man in gray armor until the man smacked him on the back of the head. And that did make Loki laugh.

It felt like half a day later that they were redirected to the feast held in the Palace. Loki made a diversion to abandon his helmet. Volstagg did make a comment when he said that he was doing so, but in reality, Loki was doing it to get a break from the crowd. Regardless, Fandral insisted upon accompanying him.

“So why do you think that the prince seemed so intrigued by you?” Fandral asked as Loki removed his helmet. “Do you think it _was_ the helmet?”

Loki chuckled. He tossed the helmet to Fandral, and Fandral stumbled as he caught it.

“You didn’t seem that taken with him,” said Fandral.

“What makes you say that?”

Fandral shrugged. He went to stow away the helmet on Loki’s behalf. “I suppose,” he said, inspecting the helmet with narrowed eyes, “that it was that wave of yours. It seemed mocking.”

“It wasn’t intended as such. Though his reaction did surprise me a little.”

“Mm.” Fandral straightened the helmet where it sat. He smiled at Loki. It was similar to the smile that he gave maidens with whom he was trying to gain favor, and somehow it brought focus to how cleanly he had arranged his hair. “Come on. Your brother will be wondering what I’m doing with you.”

Loki shook his head. “Perhaps the concern is that we’re being rude, Fandral.”

Fandral shrugged, gesturing for Loki to follow as he set off walking. “In all honesty, I was most taken with the Lady Virginia. I hear that she’s quite the politician.”

“As do I,” said Loki. Hm. Curious.

Fandral only smirked.

The feast was to welcome Howard Stark and his merchant people and to acclimatize them to the atmosphere of Asgard. As such, it was the duty of Loki, Thor, and their noble friends to be friendly to Howard Stark’s children and to the friends that they brought with them. Loki had a feeling that this was one aspect of politics at which Thor would be better. Heimdall was not the only person who had developed a glint of contempt in his eye as the years went on.

During the meal, it was the seating which most influenced with whom they would all be conversing. Fandral seemed rather pained to be seated next to the large man who had accompanied Prince Tony, though Loki did hear the man introduce himself as Happy as he walked by.

At the head table, a thing which Loki truly hated, Odin and Frigga were, of course, keeping Howard Stark company. Tony seemed happy enough to be sitting next to Thor, while Loki was seated beside Pepper. The whole thing seemed unusual, almost serene. The bright and noise in the room were making it difficult for Loki to focus. But, surely Odin knew what he was doing. Loki wouldn’t question it.

“And where is your helmet?” Odin managed to ask as Loki passed.

“Oh. I must have misplaced it.” And he moved on before Odin could make further comment.

Loki was perhaps a little hesitant to be seated beside Pepper. Fandral might already be taken with her, but he wasn’t sure that he wished to hold a conversation. She smiled as she greeted him, taking his hand. The fabric of her brown dress scratched his skin. Loki returned her smile and said everything that he needed to, but he was rather distracted by how profoundly uncomfortable Fandral looked halfway across the room.

By halfway through the meal Thor and Tony’s conversation had grown loud enough to drown out much of the other noise. Howard, shaking his head at Thor and Tony more than once, had many stories of travel to tell, of which Loki caught several snippets. Sir Henry appeared miserable but turned out to be highly intelligent. Odin shared stories of Asgard, and once Loki heard his mother telling one of her stories. Loki had been pleasantly surprised to find that, at an offhand mention of Nidavellir on the other end of the table, Pepper’s eyes had sparked alight and she had fallen into a shiningly perceptive discussion of Nidavellir economics. Loki had been fascinated.

Tony Stark had fallen off his chair twice. It seemed to amuse Thor a great deal.

Over several hours the event devolved. It was the drink and the noise and the music that did it. Of course it was. The tables ended up in a completely different place to where they had started. Loki never saw anyone move them. It was quite the headache just being in the room, and though he knew that it wasn’t the case he did feel like the only person present not driven foolish with drink. And while he and Thor had been instructed to remain at the still growing party, Odin and Frigga had long since departed with Howard Stark some of his fellows, including Pym. Loki was starting to wonder if it was worth killing his way to kingship just for the mercy of avoiding a party.

Pepper had been taken in by Lady Sif. Not unsurprising, perhaps. She was one of the only other women in the room. Thor appeared attached to Tony—and perhaps Loki should be grateful for that—and had taken him to meet the Warriors Three. Happy and Rhodes joined them. All seven seemed engaged in a perfectly pleasant conversation. A perfectly pleasant, rowdy conversation.

Loki hovered at the side of the room. Not quite hiding behind a pillar, but he was getting there. If he kept this up he might be able to flee without anybody noticing. Tactically retreat, as he would characterize it if asked. He watched Thor slam his hand down on the table with an echoing laugh. This room was too loud, and the people too noisy. It was cavernous.

He caught Fandral’s eye. Fandral smiled at him, cocking his head, but didn’t gesture for Loki to join them. Loki was grateful for that. Fandral knew him well. Then, suddenly, Tony, sat beside Fandral, fell once again off his chair.

It was almost funny for a moment, and then Tony couldn’t get up. Thor was up and out of his seat. He helped Tony up, brushing at his shoulders. Tony waved him away. It seemed like a frightened flinch of a reaction. But the second he was standing alone, he stumbled and fell against the table again.

A second later, Loki was there.

“By Asgard.” Fandral’s voice was breathy, his hand against his chest. “I do hate it when you do that.”

The armored fellows of Prince Tony were staring at Loki. From their perspective, he had just appeared out of nowhere.

Loki ignored their staring. He leaned over towards Tony. “Are you alright, My Lord?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Never better.” Tony shook himself. It seemed that he was trying to steady, but when Thor tried to help steady him, again he flinched at the contact. It seemed to have surprised him. Was that the problem?

“If I may, My Lord, how much have you had to drink?” asked Fandral.

The man in gray armor shook his head. “He had a pre-party before we arrived. Which I _said_ was ridiculous, Tony.”

“Rhodey…” But this was all that Tony managed to say.

Loki stepped forwards. “May I?” And it was only when Tony nodded that he gave him an arm to hold onto. There was something strange about Tony being shorter than him, but Loki was fiercely aware that he was. “Do you need some air, My Lord?”

A loud clattering sounded across the room. Loki looked over to see Sif and Pepper rushing to help a man who had knocked a bust off its stand.

Tony pressed his fingers against his temple, nodding. “Outside sounds like fun.”

Loki nodded. Thor took a step as if to help. Loki assured him that they would be fine, and guided Tony outside.

In fact, they ended up in the same place where Loki would often converse with Odin. The breeze matched Loki’s temperature as it hit his skin, just slightly rough in its force. It would have been soothing. Grounding. He wanted to stand there, eyes closed, and let the air calm him. He was distracted, however, by the sight of Tony stumbling several steps and vomiting over the stone railing.

“Ah,” Tony said loudly. He rested his elbows on the fence. His head was drooped as if his neck couldn’t bear the weight. “Fuck.”

Quite the man of decorum, this one. Truly one to be one to be regarded as a prince by his people. Loki approached him, hands clasped behind his back.

“That was nice in there,” Tony said. “Magic, right?”

Loki swallowed. He chose to offer selective information. “My mother helped me with a few talents. I’m not the best in combat.”

Or with sorcery, but he could work on that.

“I’m sure you do fine,” said Tony. He spluttered. “Fuck. Sorry. This is really attractive, I know.”

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “Are you trying to be attractive, My Lord?”

Tony looked up. “Always.”

“I can see that,” said Loki. Then, as Tony doubled over and coughed over the railing. “Perhaps not now.”

Tony laughed. “I’m not going to take that personally.”

“I said that I can see it,” said Loki. And he would admit to himself that there was something in the rich, deep tone of Tony’s voice that he found drawing him in.

“Mm.” Tony coughed. He stood up straight, slowly. “I think I had a little too much … everything. I admit that that guy isn’t helping my mood much. Him and his fucking pike.”

Loki looked over to where Tony had indicated. There was a single guard standing in an archway, still as a statue in his gold armor. He was there more for decoration than anything. He was armed in a limited way, and more than likely trained in a limited way as well. He also, though Loki would never say it aloud, had a helmet no more outlandish in fashion to Loki’s—though it surely cost a fraction of what Loki’s did to procure.

“That’s a polearm,” Loki said.

“Mm. And see,” said Tony, raising a finger, “normally I’m good at weapons. I’m real good at our weapons. Take after my dad in that way. He’s a real…” He coughed violently, and it took him several seconds to recover. “He’s a real genius.”

“Are you sure you’re alright, My Lord?”

“I’m fine. Really.” He held out his arms and gave Loki a smile. “Life and soul of the party, me.”

“I can tell,” said Loki. “You seemed to be getting on admirably with my brother.”

“We were talking about how we lost our virginities.”

Loki frowned. His throat was tight. “Why?”

“Because that’s always funny when you’re drunk.” Tony nudged him. “Like, how’d you lose yours?”

Loki blinked. He was very aware of the guard standing but a short distance away. “I haven’t.”

There was silence for a moment. It sent Loki’s nerves on edge. But, Tony smiled and said, “Well, if you ever feel like going for it, make sure it’s a good story.” And he punctuated the comment by doubling over again.

“Would some water be of help?” He should probably have thought of that earlier.

“I think,” said Tony, pushing himself upright, “that it might be. If you don’t mind.”

Loki nodded. He looked around, and then gestured for Tony to follow him. Tony did so, keeping stride admirably given how weak he had seen just moments before. Though perhaps, if he was such a party driven individual as had been claimed, he was used to having to recover from moments like this.

Loki found Tony a seat and a drink of water in a quiet room where they were unlikely to be disturbed. This quiet might have been for his own benefit as much as it was Tony’s.

“So,” said Tony, “what do you think our dads will be discussing?”

From where he was leaning against the wall, Loki looked up. “What was that, My Lord?”

“Our  _fathers_ , Your Highness. My dad has all these noble things to say about peace and friendship, but I’m not an idiot. I’m his son, for fuck sake. I know there’s more to it than that.”

“I’ve been thinking the same,” Loki admitted. He granted it out of surprise that Tony had picked up on it.

“My dad’s…” Tony narrowed his eyes. “He’s a real cunning bastard, you know.”

Loki didn’t want to say that he could say something similar about his own father, wise though he may be. He didn’t wish to have this conversation with Prince Tony Stark of the wandering merchants. “If I may ask, My Lord, why was it that you kept looking at me in the Hall of Asgard today?”

“Oh, that?” Tony grinned and tapped his head. “Your helmet.”

“Ah. That was Volstagg’s guess.” Though the answer had sent his stomach churning.

“I liked it. Why’d you take it off?”

“You liked it?” And he cursed how vulnerable the question had sounded.

“Yeah. Don’t think I could name another person who could pull off that look there.” Tony smiled and gestured to his cup. “Thanks for the help, though, _Your Highness._ Really.”

Loki found that the words made him uncomfortable. “My name is Loki.”

“And mine’s Tony.”

*

The next time that Loki saw Tony, he was in the courtyard with King Howard. Their clothing was far more casual. Howard seemed comfortable. Tony less so. As their conversation went on, Tony looked as if he had just been insulted. So, hands clasped behind his back, Loki approached.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Loki said brightly. “My Lord.”

Howard nodded at him, smiling. “Your Highness.”

Loki returned the smile. “Is all well?”

“Of course, of course. I’m due to start discussions with your father, in fact.” Howard’s eyes moved to Tony. “I just wanted to make sure that my son here would behave. But he refused to spend the day in the company of Rhodes.”

The artificial tone of the language masked nothing. Loki knew exactly what that meant.

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be on his best behavior.” Loki smiled at Tony. “Won’t you, My Lord?”

“I always am.” But he said it with open bitterness. He was a strikingly different person to the man Loki had helped the previous night.

Howard frowned at his son. He probably thought it subtle, but Loki spotted it.

“I would be happy to keep your son company, Your Grace. You should be sure to make your meeting with my father on time.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. That’s very generous.” His eyes slipped to Tony, then back to Loki. “I’ll be on my way.”

And he was gone in moments. Tony took a step towards Loki, still watching his father leave.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Tony said.

“I wasn’t offering to baby you, Tony.”

“I know.” Tony turned to him. “I’m sorry.”

“Mm.”

Suddenly, Tony was smiling. “Can I take a look at your helmet?”

“Why?”

“I like armor.”

Loki frowned, but shrugged off the objections that he failed to think of. “Very well. Come.”

Tony was grinning as he followed Loki. And as he inspected that helmet (weirdly, intriguingly closely) his grin only grew. Loki could only imagine why.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Tony said.

“Yes?”

“If you do decide to … you know…” Tony frowned at him. “Not with Fandral, okay?”

Loki blinked. “Why by Asgard would I…?”

Tony’s hands shot up defensively. “I’m just saying. Just making sure. I mean, the story that he told us was bullshit. You deserve someone with more integrity than that.”

Loki chuckled. He should feel uncomfortable, but somehow he didn’t. “You’re quite absurd.”

Tony winked.

*

When Odin and Howard vanished to have whatever discussions they were having, they truly did vanish, and Sir Henry vanished with them. It was as if they were gone from Asgard. If not for the sight of Pepper walking outside with Sif and Happy, one might have forgotten that the merchants were visiting. There was little sight of Rhodes, too, as it seemed that his job was to watch Tony, and Tony was protesting this.

“You have heard of his reputation, I gather?” Thor asked. He was sitting with Loki on a step, just out of the way of slanted sunlight. When Loki nodded, he said, “Rhodes tells me that Tony wanted something discussed, and King Howard didn’t. It led to an argument between them.”

“Things did seem sour when I last saw them together.” Though Loki suspected that that had been the case for a long time.

It was a few days later that Tony emerged after days of being withdrawn to his room. He had a grin on his face and he walked with a bounce in his step. While Loki darted to the side of the room upon seeing him to avoid conversation, Tony greeted Thor and the Warriors Three warmly. Rhodes, too, seemed happy enough to converse with them. They exited the hall together. And, as they did so, Tony caught Loki’s eye and waved. Loki was going to wonder where his sudden cheer had come from, But, as he concluded later to Heimdall before he was sharply banished from the observatory, it was probably faked for their benefit.

“And why does this interest you so?” Heimdall asked, clearly holding no interest himself.

“It doesn’t.”

Heimdall shook his head and looked away. His eyes reflected the weight of the worlds that he oversaw. They always did.

“It doesn’t,” Loki insisted.

“I didn’t argue with you,” said Heimdall. It was barely audible.

Tony’s mood was certainly different when Loki saw him that evening. Loki, standing behind a pillar due to the sound of approaching footsteps, watched Tony walk down the hall with a heavy expression and take a seat on the step not three feet away from Loki. It seemed that Loki was not the only one avoiding the crowded event of dinner that evening.

Loki intended to stay there. Not out of any dark desire. It was simply that he wasn’t sure that he wanted to engage in this situation, and saying the wrong thing might well be worse than avoiding this altogether. But as Tony sat there, Loki couldn’t help but notice … everything. His head was drooped as it had been when he was sick on the first night that Loki met him. His fingers were linked together. Clearly clasped tight. And one leg shook, despite that it must be awkward on that shallow step. Shook. Shook. Wouldn’t stop.

Hands clasped behind his back, Loki stepped out as quietly as he could from behind the pillar. He was now in the path of the sunlight that came through the archway behind him. He could feel the warmth hitting his back.

“My Lord.”

Tony flinched, but said quietly, “Hey, Loki.”

“Are you alright?”

“Never better,” said Tony with a bitter chuckle. “Not been avoiding me, have you?”

“No more than you have us, I’m sure.”

Loki stepped down to Tony’s level and sat beside him. They were almost touching. Loki only realized then that this was where he and Thor had been sitting when they had discussed Tony.

“Sorry. I just. This is going to make me sound like an ass, but I couldn’t face my dad.”

Loki nodded. “Thor said that you—”

“I didn’t mean to start a fight with my dad. Just…” He smiled suddenly, and winked. “Ruining my reputation as a diplomat, you know.”

Loki didn’t want to, but he found that the suddenness of Tony’s smile drew him to return it.

“I just asked him to talk about something and he didn’t want to. Don’t know why it had to be such a big deal,” said Tony. He huffed. “But that’s my dad, I suppose.”

“If I may,” Loki began. “I…” He shook his head. “No. No matter.”

Tony frowned at him. He grabbed his shoulder and nudged him. “What? Come on. Can’t hold out on me now you’ve started like that.”

Loki shook his head, but relented. He got the impression that Tony wouldn’t drop it if he didn’t. “I got an impression when I saw your father. He does have the eyes of a very cunning man.”

The look that Tony gave him was striking. He pulled away from Loki, dropping his hand. His eyes widened. The spark in them was one of realization. His mouth had opened, just slightly. He was looking at Loki as if he had just sprouted several new limbs from his chest.

“He is,” said Tony. He appeared to shake himself, and suddenly he was the same cheerful man that Loki had seen that morning. “He’s cunning. I mean. He’s … calculated. He always knows what he’s doing. He’s always got a plan. He’s…” He shrugged. “He’s the politician of the two of us, I guess. I put our blacksmiths to shame and I was done with tutoring when I was still a kid because I kept outsmarting my tutors, but I’m not a politician and I think it disappoints him.”

“I’m sure that it doesn’t.” Loki didn’t know why he said it. Surely Tony would hear his doubt. “I’m no soldier, so I’ll join no army. Father knows me.”

Tony nodded. “Do you ever …” He cleared his throat. “Do you ever wonder what your dad is planning on doing with you? I know that he has to be planning something. Pepper’s been my friend for as long as I can remember, but she became my sister because he wanted someone he could trust to take his place. I know I’m no future king.”

Loki swallowed. He wouldn’t say it, and Odin _had_ always said that there was kingship in Loki’s blood, but he knew exactly how Tony felt.

“It’s hard not to feel like he’s trying to get rid of me,” Tony said. “I’ve done nothing but cause him trouble … you know, always.”

“Mm. I must admit, I’m not sure what purpose that I serve.”

Tony laughed. “Lovely that you have to think of yourself like that, huh?” He huffed. “Even Pymmy didn’t want to come here. But then he realized that he wanted someone to be watching my dad while we were here and he wouldn’t trust a Stark to do it. Now he _did_ have a fight with my dad.”

Loki frowned.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that. But fuck it,” said Tony. He clicked his tongue. “Isn’t there a dinner that we’re meant to be attending?”

“I didn’t feel up to it.”

“Me neither. Didn’t want to hear the sideways comments from my dad.”

Loki wasn’t sure what to that (though perhaps he may have been if he’d known Tony better, had more data) so he said, “I like it here.”

“Me too.” He pointed back through the archway. “Sun is nice.”

“It should be setting soon, too.”

“How romantic.” And when Loki raised his eyebrow, “I’m kidding. But stars are nice, too.”

“Indeed.” And it sounded sarcastic. It wasn’t.

“Should we go?”

“My father will be most disappointed if I don’t attend,” Loki said. “He does get like that.”

“Mm.” The grin that Tony gave him was dazzling, the same charming smile characteristic of Fandral. “And hey, both of us turning up late together. Might give them more something more interesting than politics to talk about.”

Loki only shook his head.

Tony chuckled at him and stood. He spun on his heels and held out his hands. After a moment’s consideration, Loki took them and allowed Tony to help him up.

“So, don’t think I’m going to judge you for the answer, but you’ve got me curious,” said Tony. And when Loki said nothing, “Have you had your first kiss?”

“Why, My Lord,” said Loki. Somehow, he was amused by the question. Perhaps it was that there was no hint of malice in Tony’s eyes. “You know, an acquaintance of mine described you as licentious.”

Tony chuckled. “I prefer ‘friendly.’ Come on.” As he started off, he only released one of Loki’s hands. “Us being late gives you fodder for a fake ‘how I lost my virginity story,’ doesn’t it?”

Loki let out a breath of laughter. “And why, My Lord, would I want people to think that I had done that with you?”

Tony stopped dead, nearly tripping Loki up, and stared Loki dead in the face. “Wow. _Cold_ , Odinson.”

Loki smirked.

Tony stopped dead, frowning at him.

“Yes, Tony?” Loki risked maintaining the facial expression.

Tony lifted Loki’s hand, frowning at their entwined fingers as if they were some complicated mathematical problem. His eyes flitted to Loki. “Can I kiss you?”

Loki squeezed Tony’s hand. He smiled, and said, sweetly, “No.”

He thought he covered rather well the fact that he was suddenly terrified.

*

Loki was taking a walk with his mother. Not far, just in the courtyard. She walked her brow furrowed. It was a shame, it truly was, that this meeting had been orchestrated by Odin. Mother had admitted so as soon as she asked to walk with Loki.

“You do…” She took a breath. Smiled at her son. “You do trust your father’s decisions, don’t you, Loki?”

“Of course I do.” That question again? “He has true strength of heart, does he not?”

Her eyes lit up. “It honors me that you still remember that story.”

“I do. I always will.”

His mother’s smile widened. She stopped walking and took both his hands in her own. “I do hope that you and your brother find someone who gives you that strength of heart.”

Loki frowned. He had no idea what to say.

“My marriage to your father was arranged, you know, and I love him more each day. He’s always given me strength.”

“That’s … nice,” Loki said.

“It is.” She dropped his hands. “But no matter.” Continuing to walk, she said, “Have you been getting on with our guests?”

“I’ve seen little of most of them. I’ve spent some time with Prince Tony.”

“So I’ve heard,” said Frigga. “How do you find him?”

“He’s…” Loki considered. There were certainly answers _not_ to give there. “Sharp.”

Frigga smiled.

As it happened, ten minutes later they encountered Tony and Rhodey. Tony grinned at the sight of Loki, and, unlike many, didn’t seem at all perturbed by the sight of Frigga.

“Just the man I was looking for,” said Tony, with a theatrical little bow in Frigga’s direction. Frigga chuckled.

“He’s been driving me mad. You can deal with him.” He gave due respect to Frigga and departed.

“Do you know, I don’t think he likes me,” said Tony.

Frigga was still smiling. She rested a hand on Loki’s arm. “You will remember this conversation, Loki?”

Loki frowned. If he hadn’t been suspicious before, he certainly was now. “I will, Mother.”

Frigga nodded. There was a sadness to her smile now. She said her goodbyes and departed. This left Tony and Loki alone. After a moment’s consideration, Loki gestured for Tony to walk with him, and Tony did.

“Just the man you were looking for,” Loki repeated.

“Yeah. Yeah you are,” said Tony. “Do you think you could do me a favor?”

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “That rather depends on the favor.”

Tony huffed. He stopped still in his tracks, prompting Loki to do the same.

“Tony?” Loki said.

“D’you remember when I told you that I wanted my dad to talk to yours about something?”

“I do.”

“I only asked because I didn’t think there was any chance of him talking to me,” said Tony, “but I think he needs to hear this.”

Loki nodded. He understood immediately. “I can take you to speak with him.”

Tony blinked. “Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“Would he talk to me?”

Loki shrugged. “If I asked, he would talk to you.”

“Thank you, Loki,” Tony said. “You really don’t need to do this.”

Again, Loki shrugged. He felt the weight of this but, somehow, he wanted to ease any nerves that Tony may have. He asked, “Would you have asked me if it weren’t important?”

Tony sighed. “My dad asked me how I would feel if I was asked to stay in Asgard when everyone goes back. So maybe I know what his plan for me might be.”

Loki swallowed. What was he to say to that? “I can … see the political advantage of that.”

“Plus he wouldn’t have to go searching for me if I…” He looked almost if he were about to cry.

“You’re not a spare part, My Lord,” Loki assured him. He didn’t know where the words came from. He hoped that they would help.

Tony smiled. “Can I kiss you?”

Loki returned his grin. “No.”

*

They stood with Odin on his favorite balcony, his back to the beautiful view below. He surveyed Tony with a stern look in his eye, but it wasn’t uninviting. Loki could tell that he had no desire to intimidate.

“So, what is it that you wished to tell me, My Lord?”

“Uh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to make this seem so dramatic,” said Tony. He did seem to have such distaste for the formalities of titles, and Loki hated that he admired that.

“I didn’t take it that way, I assure you. But I trust my son’s word. And I did know that you had a disagreement with your father over discussing something.”

“Pymmy, too. Pymmy wouldn’t dare go against him in public,” said Tony. “Not here, anyway.”

Loki, though he would remain silent where he stood against the wall, found his interest heightened.

“My Lord, please. If you have something to say, then do say it.”

Tony nodded. He had the same look in his eyes that he had when Loki had found him that tense conversation with King Howard. “I was … on a break from duty with my family. That’s why we were delayed getting here. But … something happened when I was gone. When I found out about it, I was pissed.”

Odin nodded.

“Hank’s like me, sort of. He’s not a politician. He doesn’t advise Dad in that. But he’s _really_ good at what we do. He was working on this technology with the Dwarves. Augmenting armor with magic. If used properly, it was—fuck. Anyway.”

Loki tried not to allow his mind to stick on how fascinating he found thought of that technology.

“Hank didn’t want it removed from where it was developed. He thought if the technology got out it would be misused, so he made sure it stayed where the wrong hands wouldn’t get to it.”

“Mm.” Odin nodded, once. “That we understand.”

Indeed, Asgard had quite the history of taking technology from the “wrong” hands.

“I thought you would,” said Tony, “but I …” He cleared his throat. “I got back and I was talking to Dad and Pymmy stormed in and … Dad had stolen it. He’d just stolen it. And I can’t tell you all the details but Hank trusted my dad with his life and my dad just…”

“I understand,” said Odin gently. He was being remarkably kind. Loki was grateful for that. Grateful, and trying not to dwell too much on the image of Sir Henry chained in a cage. With Howard being king, Henry would be seen as the traitor.

“I’m not trying to start anything,” said Tony. “ I just wanted to say that if you strike any deal with my dad then make sure it’s a deal you can trust because I know that was only one example, but example against a lifelong friend and I’d hate to think that someone went to so much trouble for peace only for my dad to fuck it up.”

“My Lord,” Odin started.

“No, that’s it. That’s all I wanted to say,” said Tony. “And the last thing I want to do right now is start a fight that I don’t have to. That’s gotten me in enough trouble.”

Odin smiled at him.

“Maybe I should’ve just told Hank to grow some balls and tell you himself. He’s fucking off after this anyway. Doesn’t trust House Stark anymore.”

Odin frowned. “Should I not?”

Tony started. He fell backward a step. Loki found that, without meaning to, he was next to him in a second.

“I’m not planning anything,” Tony said. Loki rested his hand on Tony’s shoulder, hoping that it served as a gesture of friendship.

“If it’s of any help, Father, what I answered to the question you had mother asked me … I did mean that.”

“Thank you, Loki.”

When Odin left shortly after that, Tony appeared shaken. He allowed Loki to hold a hand against his back, an admittedly feeble attempt to steady him.

“Thanks, Loki. Honestly, I don’t even know why Pymmy came to Asgard. I do think I needed to say that.”

“As do I. You’ve certainly done your duty,” said Loki.

“And now what?”

“It’s out of your hands.”

“I fucking hate that.”

Loki smiled. “As do I. Come.”

They spent the rest of the day observing the training of Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three. Tony seemed to latch on to study of their armor and weaponry to steady himself. He did a remarkable job of appearing calm. Loki wondered if some backlash would arise because of this short exchange, and who might experience it.

*

The library was wonderful. The air was dusty. The sun that pushed its way through the grimy windows was tepid. The books smelled of their years. The ceilings were high. So high that Loki could pretend, as a child, that he was outside when he was told that it was too cold for him to read in the calming breeze.

He found a table at the back of this large hall to read his book. It was few words, many illustrations, showing stories that had been told in Asgard for … Perhaps his mother could say how long, but Loki didn’t know the number. Regardless, he had been staring for some time at the same picture: a rendition of a fish, drawn over large for artistic merit, swimming towards a waterfall, while an angry prince and three soldiers seemed further up the page to be in search. He looked up only when he heard footsteps approaching, and smiled at the man standing behind him.

“What are you reading?” Fandral asked.

“Nothing, nothing.” Loki closed the book to be sure that its contents were protected.

Fandral didn’t seem happy with that answer, but he didn’t press the issue. He leaned against the table, and then down towards Loki. “I’ve been meaning to ask you since I notice that you’ve been spending so much time with our honored guest Prince Tony—”

Loki rested his chin on his hand. He had to admit to himself, looking at the fiercely curious look in Fandral’s eyes, that he couldn’t resist... “Prince Tony and the other members of the merchant company are here to extend the hand of friendship.” He smiled. “I extended the hand of friendship.”

Fandral blinked. “And what does that mean?”

“Precisely what I said.”

Fandral seemed taken aback. He then recovered himself and chuckled.

“Have you not succeeded in befriending Lady Pepper? You seemed rather taken with her when she first arrived.”

“Sif tells me that I’m not good enough for her.”

“Quite right.”

Fandral’s laughter was too loud for the library, and more enthusiastic than the comment deserved. “Is that so?”

“I’ve heard Lady Pepper discuss economics several times during her time here. You wouldn’t understand a word she was saying.”

“You may be right.” Fandral looked up and away. He had to be staring right at a bookshelf. “I don’t take back my comments.”

“And what comments would they be?”

Fandral seemed suddenly stiff, awkward, but he continued. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but do these discussions not seem suspect to you? I know that you thought there was more to this than His Majesty and His Grace said. I know that you noticed how … grim, shall we say, Sir Henry appears. And if I may, we had no trade issues with Nidavellir before these merchants became…” He cocked his head. “Became whatever they are.”

“My ears are burning.”

At the sound of the deep voice, unmistakably Tony Stark’s, Loki turned in his seat to see Tony’s face emerge from behind the nearest bookshelf.

“ _Hi,_ ” said Tony, voice bright and smile dazzling. “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I just couldn’t help but overhear your—okay. I was eavesdropping.” He waggled his fingers. “Hi.”

“Forgive me, My Lord,” said Fandral. He didn’t appear the smallest bit perturbed. He was smiling.

“Oh, you don’t need to be sorry.” Tony stepped out fully from behind the bookshelf. He was holding a large, leather bound book. “You want to be talking to my sister about this, though. She’s the politician of the two of us.”

“Perhaps you’re right, but I really didn’t mean to offend, My Lord.”

“Yeah, well. You didn’t know I was in here.” Tony grinned. Loki heard the click of his teeth as he clamped his jaw shut.

Fandral let out a chuckle. It seemed in a strange way as if he was trying to maintain good humor, though how he expected to do that was certainly beyond Loki. Tony said nothing further, too, merely maintaining his grin and refusing to break eye contact with Fandral. It was Fandral who finally looked away, turning his smile back to Loki.

“Can we count on you making it on time tomorrow?”

It was only then that Loki remembered that he had agreed to join a to the outside of the citadel. He had no desire to go. But he maintained his smile and said, “Of course. And I trust that you’ll be on your best behavior.”

Fandral laughed and departed with an apologetic nod towards Tony. An apologetic nod with sincerity that Loki had trouble believing.

Within seconds, Tony had taken Fandral’s place leaning against the table. He held his book against his legs, and said brightly, “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not offended.”

Loki frowned. He fell back in his seat. “I wasn’t aware that I was looking at you like anything.”

“Right,” said Tony. “So, he’s an old friend of yours, right?”

“Since childhood.”

“I can tell.”

“Mm.”

Tony shook his head, but he was smiling. He nodded towards Loki’s book. “And what are you reading?”

“It’s…” Loki stopped, mouth open. He’d been intending to lie. His first thought had been to lie. There was no title written on this book, but instead a twirling illustration of a tree that Loki could recall in detail without having to see the book before him. “It’s a book of illustrations. Old stories. My mother used them to me when I was a child.”

There was quiet for a moment. Loki was aware of nothing more than he was the dust in the air … and Tony looking at him. Then, in a way very different to how he had during his exchange with Fandral, Tony smiled.

“That’s nice,” Tony said. “My dad was never one for telling me stories.”

He looked somber. Then suddenly he smiled again. He hopped up onto the table and held out his own book, tapping it repeatedly as if encouraging Loki to ask him about it.

Loki smiled, once again resting his chin on his hand. “And what are you reading, My Lord?”

Tony grinned, tapping the book twice firmly. “I’m reading about Asgardian technology. Which—credit to you guys—is just…” He flipped the book open. His eyes were alight as he looked at a page. “I mean, I think we all know that the Dwarves do some great stuff and I did a lot when I was in Nidavallir but—fuck. Asgardian steel is just beautiful. If nothing else, you guys lead in style.”

Loki chuckled.

“No, you do. Like that helmet of yours. Did someone from Asgard design that? Not that I don’t know what I’m doing, but that helmet…” He winked. Then sighed, dropping his book onto the table. “I designed Rhodey’s armor, you know.”

“Did you?” Loki wasn’t sure why that piqued his interest so.

“Yeah. That’s why it doesn’t look very … like us, I say. I like to think I’m a genius, but you know.” He leaned in and said, “My dad doesn’t approve. Think I’ve gone a little … outside of what I’m meant to be doing.” He sat up straight. He was frowning. “Pymmy’s style is really different to mine, and all, but Dad should have more respect for his work.”

“Does Sir Henry still plan to leave your father’s service?”

Tony nodded. “I guess that’s what happens if you put all your faith in someone and then suddenly you realize that you can’t trust them.”

An image of a fish swimming against the flow of a river came to Loki’s mind.

“But, hey,” said Tony. “You _are_ a politician. I can tell that. Do you think Fandral is right?”

Loki shrugged. “It would hardly be relevant if he were. Regardless of any outside situation, our fathers don’t want any hostile relationship. Where would be the benefit? Anything that appears hostile is posturing, is unwise, doesn’t serve their purpose, and has nothing to do with anything else. Father only wants a peaceful relationship.”

Tony nodded. “So does Dad.”

“Good.” Loki cleared his throat. “So it _is_ it true that your people have been helping the Dwarves develop weaponry?”

It was only for a second that Tony looked truly, purely terrified at the question. “Not to start anything. Not from me, anyway. I like the science of it.”

“Hm. I like that.”

Tony winked at him. “But of course you do. Can I kiss you?”

Loki stood and leaned in. He and Tony were so, so close, and that was new to him. “No.”

*

They were in the training grounds. Quite the crowd. Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three were training with several of their fellows. Loki, Tony, Pepper and the merchant knights had been invited to join them. It was Thor and Fandral who stood closest to Loki, Tony keeping Pepper and Sif company. A target stood some distance away. Loki couldn’t help but laugh at the proceedings.

“Brother, I do love you,” he said, “but you couldn’t hit a target if it were a foot away from you.”

Thor huffed. He shook his head.

Fandral, laughing deeply, pointed at the target. “I’m afraid he’s not wrong. Look at that. Nowhere close. And His Highness can’t even claim that the sun is in his eyes as an excuse.” His hand was on Loki’s shoulder.

“Mm. You’re a lot of things, brother, but you’re not a man of finesse.””

“Quite,” Fandral agreed.

Then, suddenly, there was silence. And the air was heavy. Loki looked past his brother to see the source of this sudden change in atmosphere. Howard Stark was approaching, eyes hard and lips thin.

“Hi, Dad,” said Tony.

“Tony.” He looked to Loki. “Your Highness, may I?”

Loki nodded. With small looks of protest from Thor and Fandral, he approached Howard, who had also encouraged Tony to join him. The three were rather … sequestered.

“Forgive the sudden intrusion,” he said, and Loki did so hate how artificial his tone sounded, “but King Odin and I were wondering if you would join us for a short while.”

When it seemed that Tony was committed to silence, Loki said, “Of course, Your Grace,” and without another word were two were led away. And Loki, who could feel eyes on his back, tried very hard not to look behind himself as he followed the king.

*

And so, on what was Loki’s second visit to the Hall of Asgard since the day that he came of age, it was announced that Prince Tony and Prince Loki were to be wed, and with this betrothal came an arrangement of friendship between House Stark and the House of Odin in perpetuity. And Loki wouldn’t have found this public announcement _embarrassing_ , as such, had he not been found by Tony afterward while he was vomiting in the courtyard.

“Should I be offended?” asked Tony, garbed in his red and gold formalwear.

“Not at all.” Loki stood with his hands on his knees, trying to steady himself. “I’ve simply had … too much of everything.”

“You knew that this was going to happen. You didn’t argue any more than I did.”

Loki stood straight, feeling the full weight of his helmet as if it were chaining him down. “Are you upset with me?”

“No. Don’t be a dick. I’m mad at my dad.”

“You agreed to this, too.”

Tony huffed, throwing up his hands. Loki almost took a step back as Tony seemed twice his normal height.

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” Tony demanded. “I said I was wondering what he planned to do with me, and now I fucking know. I was causing him problems. And now I’m staying here and he gets his peace deal. Problem solved.”

Loki bit his lip. He took a step forwards. His stomach lurched, but he ignored it. “Something happened to you in Nidavellir, didn’t it?”

Tony shrugged. His jaw was clenched. “Doesn’t matter now. Come on. We should get you a glass of water, or something.”

“Tony…”

“Don’t worry. I don’t want to kiss you. Not right now, definitely.”

Tony grabbed Loki’s hand and dragged him away. It sent Loki’s head spinning, but he made no protest. Surely people would be wondering where they had vanished to, but they had imaginations. They could deal with it. But Loki wasn’t sure that he could deal with how tightly Tony was squeezing his hand. He felt chained.

And, funnily enough, suddenly destined to be wed, and holding hands with the man he was destined to be wed to, he felt very much alone.


	2. Present

The young prince stared up at the sky. It was too vast, and he was too small, and it made him feel ill at ease. But, he supposed, it was better than a lifetime chained in a cave.

The cold wasn’t cutting. He wasn’t tired. He wanted to be. He was supposed to be. But every time that he thought of sleep, his chest tightened and his heart raced.

“You should be in bed, little one.”

It was Mother. She didn’t look angry. In fact, she was smiling. Mother always found him when he sat on the balcony at night. Or, indeed, when he was anywhere that he shouldn’t be.

“I’m not small,” Loki protested

“Oh, but you are.” She approached him, kissed the top of his head. “And you’ll always be my little one, hm?”

Loki scowled. “No.”

Mother chuckled. “Did you have another nightmare?”

Loki sat on the ground and folded his arms. A moment later, Mother had done the same. She said nothing. She merely watched him, smiling.

“I was chained up in a cave,” Loki said.

“Surely that story’s not too frightening for you.”

Loki huffed. “No! I just … I was scared. I was scared of doing the wrong.”

“Oh, Loki.” Mother rested her hand on Loki’s shoulder. He could feel her wedding band through his nightshirt. “That’s a noble thing to be afraid of.”

Loki laced his fingers together, trying to look as Mother did when she was nervous. “Father knows the adviser story.”

“He does.”

“He says something different about it than you.”

Mother was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, she said, “What does your father say?”

“He says that the adviser swore to uphold the peace that the king was protecting.” Loki frowned as he tried to remember Father’s exact words. “He says that if I like the story then I should remember the penalty that the adviser suffered for betraying that oath.”

Mother wasn’t looking at him. “That is … one lesson, but we can learn many lessons from the same story.”

“I like yours better,” said Loki.

Mother winked at him. “So do I.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I told you that story because I want you to know that you are loved. And I want you to know the power of real, selfless love. And you know, little one, you must remember that the adviser wasn’t the only one with real strength of heart. You must remember his wife. She knew what she was sacrificing by spending her life in that cave with him, but she did it. Because she loved him. Because it was wrong to leave him alone.”

Loki grabbed the fabric of Mother’s dress. He still didn’t like this part.

“We walk a difficult line,” Mother continued. “We believe in peace here, but knowing the right path to that peace is so often difficult. That adviser wanted to do what was best for his people, but he didn’t have strength in his heart and his methods were cowardly.” She released him from the hug, looked him right in the eye. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Loki lied.

She chuckled. “As I said, your father has the strong heart of a wise king. And one day your brother will be king, but you too have royal blood, and one of the hardest lessons to learn is pursuing what you need to by bravery, and not by cowardice.”

Loki nodded. He still didn’t understand.

“If you fear doing the wrong thing, little one, then you will learn to pursue the right one. It’s not a nightmare to shy away from.” Mother stood and held out her hand. “Come now. Let’s get you to bed.”

Loki didn’t allow Mother to leave the fire burning for some time after that. He was trying to get over his fear of the dark.

*

Atop his sheets, Loki snapped awake as the heavy door of his room hit the wall. He sighed, and sat, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt as if someone had taken a hammer to his skull.

“Good evening, brother.”

Thor said nothing. He looked as if he was going to boil over. He stood there with his fists clenched and his eyes alight. And then, suddenly, Mother was standing behind him as if she had appeared from nowhere, her hands clasped in front of her and her lips were thin.

Loki kept his eyes on Thor, and said flippantly, “Are you planning on saying something?

“Were you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Loki—”

“No, brother, I really don’t know what you mean.” Loki stood. The movement shot nausea up his throat. “Did you come here to shout at me for not telling you of the arrangement that Father made with King Howard? Because I only knew a short while before you did.”

Thor froze. Completely. For a moment—a fleeting, fleeting moment—it was as if Loki’s brother was made of stone. And then, he sighed. He shook his head. He looked at the floor.

“Father should have told me,” he said. He looked up. His eyes were soft. “He should have told me, and he should have told you sooner.”

Loki shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “He doesn’t do that.”

Almost imperceptibly, Mother shook her head.

Thor closed his eyes. He took a breath. This was the moment that he had to take, else he may explode.

“Thor,” said Loki, “it’s alright.”

Thor’s eyes snapped open. “Is this not a problem?”

“It’s…” Loki swallowed. He did feel truly, shudderingly sick. “I didn’t protest.”

Frigga looked away, towards the balcony.

Thor cracked his knuckles, and that crack against the silence was shaking. “You didn’t protest.”

“What do you want me to say? You know Father as well as I do, and you know how this works. There was nothing for me to say.”

Thor opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came. He just stared at Loki, something dark in his eyes, Mother kept looking away. The silence dragged on for so long that Loki moved to say something, anything … but he was cut off by the feeling of his bones being crushed.

Thor was hugging him. Hugging him so tight that it hurt. Loki’s arms were pinned to his side, and he’d lost the power to speak.

Just what was going through Thor’s mind? Usually, Loki could tell. Not at this moment.

When Thor released him, he asked, “Are you alright?”

Loki was surprised that he didn’t turn out the contents of his stomach on his brother’s clothing. “No more than I usually am.”

Thor shook his head, patted Loki’s shoulder, and departed without so much as a look in their mother’s direction.

Mother had crossed her arms. She looked … guarded, was perhaps the word.

“That wasn’t what I expected,” said Loki.

“No,” said Mother, “nor I. My sons continue to surprise me.”

Loki had no idea what to say to that. He had no idea what it was supposed to mean. He took a seat on his bed, and, a few moments later, Mother took a seat beside him.

“You seem concerned,” said Loki.

“You seem distressed.”

“I’m fine.”

Mother sighed. “I thought that your brother was going to do something rash.”

“So did I. Perhaps I should learn to be surprised.”

“I thought,” said Mother, “that you trusted your father’s judgment.”

“And I do. But no harm in a little cynicism.”

Mother’s eyes darkened. “And what does that mean, Loki?”

Loki shrugged.

Again, Mother sighed. She moved closer to Loki, offered her hand. Loki took it. For a moment, there was silence, and Loki wondered if he was supposed to say something. Was Mother searching for words? He could certainly find none. He remained silent as he rested her head on his shoulder and squeezed his hand.

“A long time ago,” she began, “in a time before we read, and a time before we wrote, there was a kingdom so ancient that all had forgotten its name. And they say that the heart of this kingdom was its place. A great palace. Its windows shone with sunlight and its towers sought to reach the sky. No palace in any kingdom was as well defended as this one. But the people of the kingdom didn’t credit its fortifications. No, the credit went to the brilliance of the king.”

Loki’s head hurt.

*

For all the festival that had accompanied Howard Stark’s arrival, it was with little notice that he departed. Loki witnessed the occasion only because he sought it out, and it seemed to be an affair which none were enjoying. Odin, dressed informally, left the event before Stark’s company finished their farewells. It seemed as if he had no investment. Or perhaps, more accurately, as if he had already secured that investment.

With Hank Pym watching from the sidelines, some conversation went on between Howard and his son. They stood several feet apart. Howard was dressed formally. Tony wasn’t. Howard offered his son a hand. Tony took it only when Rhodes hit him on the arm.

As it happened, this was the first time that Loki had seen Tony since the day that their betrothal was announced. Nothing had changed about him physically, and he couldn’t imagine that this situation had brought about any shattering change in his attitude. And yet, despite having liked the man since their first conversation, Loki felt a sudden disconnect from him. It was as if there were some imperceivable, yet impenetrable wall between them—and he could tell that even from this distance.

There was no processing that he was engaged to this man. His brain refused.

There was a farewell of some emotion between Tony and the bodyguard, Happy: A tight hug, which Happy initiated. Pepper, too, had to pull Tony into a hug. There was no making out the expressions on their faces, but even so Loki could tell how unwilling this all was. And it surely didn’t help that Howard was watching.

When all was done, the air was heavy. Loki had no desire to show himself, and so, though he knew it to be in poor taste, he followed Tony our of simple curiosity as to where he would go. How one handled a mood as poor as Tony’s … that always said a lot.

Tony found his way to the courtyard. Rhodes, who had been instructed to remain in Asgard, followed him. The two took a seat on a step, and appeared settled. Loki was close enough to see the nervousness with which Rhodes regarded Tony. Close enough to see Tony’s blank expression as he looked out over the courtyard. And he stood there long enough to be far too bothered by the mystery of _exactly_ what Tony was thinking.

Loki stepped out into the sunlight, hands clasped behind his back, and said brightly, “Good morning, My Lord. Sir Rhodes,” he said.

Rhodes frowned. “Spend a lot of time hiding in the shadows, do you?”

“As it happens.” Loki smiled. “Forgive me, but I was wondering if I could have a word with my betrothed.”

Rhodes looked to Tony. His eyes were dark.

Tony blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Sighing, Rhodes lifted his hands as if in surrender. “Fine, fine.” He shook his head at Loki, muttered, “He’s all yours,” and was away.

Loki quickly took the seat that Rhodes had just vacated. Tony was silent, hands clasped together. Loki could feel the weight of this quiet. But, he would wait for Tony to speak. This would be a stronger conversation if Tony was given the confidence of leading it.

Finally, Tony muttered, “You know what this means.”

“I know what this means?”

“Our dads … arranging this,” said Tony, waving a hand.

“It means a great many things.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, “but…” He sighed. “Dad has Pepper. She’s his heir. And he’s having me marry _you_ , so clearly he doesn’t care about—”

“I don’t think you…” Loki swallowed as nausea surged back into his throat. “I don’t think you need to think about that right now.”

“I don’t know what the fuck else I’m supposed to be thinking about,” Tony said. He sighed. “Hey, sorry I was such a dick the other day.”

Loki shrugged. “I didn’t notice.”

“Wow, you really are an ass,” said Tony. He looked at Loki for a moment. Then, suddenly, he laughed and shoved Loki’s shoulder. “You know, I didn’t think you would be.”

Loki clenched his jaw. “I didn’t think that you were so angry.” He smiled, but he could only imagine that it looked far from genuine. “You have an Asgardian temper.”

“No, I fucking don’t.”

“I’m afraid that you do.”

There was quiet for a moment until, gently, Tony rested a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “I’m, uh, I’m also sorry about that ‘Can I kiss you?’ bullshit. It suddenly feels kind of inappropriate.”

“Mm.” Loki cleared his throat. “It’s nothing to be sorry for. It was…”

Tony smirked. “What?” And, when Loki refused to answer, “I’m just going to say now, Loki … Maybe it’s worth deciding now what you’re comfortable with before you’re forced to do something that you’re not.”

Loki swallowed. “I—”

“I mean.” Tony grabbed Loki’s hand. “Not by me. I just—”

“I know,” Loki assured him. “Thank you.”

“Of course … You just, you get back to me on that one, or … I don’t know.” He sighed. “You know, I’ve had a headache since I got here.”

“I’ve had a headache since I met you.”

Tony pushed his arm and muttered, “Asshole,” but he was smiling.

Loki found that he was smiling, too. He couldn’t help it. He still felt sick. He was shaking with it. But perhaps that was just what he had to deal with, as Tony had to deal with his headache.

“I’m gonna … I’m gonna try and suppress that Asgardian temper of mine if it bothers you so much,” said Tony. “We should at least get on. You know, if we’re stuck with each other.”

“If we’re stuck with each other.”

“Well. I guess that your brother likes me enough, at least. But then, of course he does,” said Tony. He laughed. “You realize that the plan for me was ‘Marry him to Loki Odinson,’ and other than that I’m just supposed to sit here in Asgard. Forever.”

“There are worst Realms in which to find oneself stranded.”

“You would think that. You’re used to this bullshit. You’re the politician. And I mean, I think you’re great, and all, but I’m pretty sure that Fandral hates me.”

Loki shook his head, though he was intrigued by Tony’s train of thought there. “Fandral disliked you before he even met you. Every story about you painted you as a cocky, self-assured womanizer, and people are mistrustful are those a great deal like themselves.”

“Huh,” said Tony. “Doesn’t sound like Fandral.”

“I know him better than you do.”

“Sure, but _womanizer_? The story of how he lost his virginity was bullshit.”

“So you say.”

Loki expected another laugh from Tony. Even a fake one. But Tony sighed. He was staring at the ground. His leg began to bounce. He looked nothing short of overwhelmed, as if he—And, it was gone. Tony frowned. He looked to Loki, something dark in his eyes.

“Am I really supposed to be your story?” Tony asked. “Now that we’re…?”

Loki blinked. He couldn’t identify the feeling in his chest, but he certainly didn’t like it. Finally, he managed, “Consummation is required for a marriage to be legal.”

Tony looked away. “Yeah.”

Loki opened his mouth, to say whatever first came to mind, but snapped it shut at … Were those footsteps? He could barely focus on the sound, but it was fast and thundering.

A pair of hands grabbed Loki’s shoulders. “There you are, brother!”

And there was Thor, eyes sparkling, grinning like a fool. Loki returned this smile—laughed, even, for the show of it—and stood quickly to match his brother’s height. Thor pulled him up the steps.

Standing behind Thor, a smiling Fandral said, “We’ve been looking for you, you see. Sif says that she won’t let us out of the immediate area without someone to watch us.” He turned his smile to Tony. “And I suppose that we shouldn’t leave _you_ alone, either.”

“Fine!” This, dramatically, from Tony, who had already put on an impressive mask of an upbeat demeanor. He sighed theatrically and threw up his arms. “Help me up, Odinson.”

Thor laughed. As he helped Tony up the steps (and with some fanfare, as if they were both drunk), Loki stepped towards Fandral. Somehow, the proximity to him made things seem just a little quieter.

Fandral dropped his smile. “Are you alright?”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Of course I am.”

Fandral nodded, clearly unconvinced. “We’re here.”

As Tony fell over and took Thor with him, Loki smiled. “I know,” he said. “Thank you.”

*

Heimdall stood still as a statue, staring out into the great abyss before him. Loki stood close beside him. For this moment, at least, he wanted to see the expression on the man’s face.

“I almost can’t believe that this is the first time that you’ve come to see me since the betrothal was announced,” Heimdall said, finally.

“Almost?”

Heimdall smiled, looking at Loki out of the side of his eyes. “I _almost_ can’t believe that you’re engaged to be married.”

Loki nodded. “I’ll admit that it’s a little … surreal. As if the ceremony will never arrive.”

“But it will. And then you’ll be _married_.” Heimdall laughed. “And to think that not long ago you were agonizing over coming of age.”

“I don’t remember agonizing, precisely, but I do—”

“Are you alright?”

Loki started. “Pardon?”

Heimdall turned to him. “This was a surprise to you, and it affects the rest of your life. How’ve you been handling it?”

“And why does it concern you?”

Heimdall seemed to consider for a moment. “If you don’t mind me saying so, Your Highness, you visit me when you’re distressed. I can only assume that you’re here now for that reason.”

Loki shook his head. He scratched at the back of his hand and looked away. He wondered why Heimdall always stood on ground level when Loki visited his observatory—nowadays, anyway. The platform in the center of the room would give him an advantage in height.

Loki stepped away quickly and hopped up onto that platform, before spinning on his heel and surveying Heimdall with a smile. He noticed Heimdall stiffen at this movement.

“It’s some pressure,” Heimdall said, “to have a marriage to someone that you barely know ahead of you.”

Loki shrugged, nonchalant. “People have a romantic notion that arranged marriages are always some great evil, but we both know that they don’t always cause misery. My parents’ marriage was arranged.”

“You aren’t your parents. Nor is Prince Tony.”

Loki clicked his tongue. “We’re fine.”

Moments later, Heimdall was at his side. “I say as I did before. You come here only when you’re distressed.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, not ashamed to make it obvious that he was trying to discern whether or not there was some ulterior motive here. Of course, Heimdall was not a being of ulterior motives. He was a man of duty, whatever he perceived that duty to be. He met Loki’s eyes with an even expression, unwavering. It seemed that he wouldn’t back down.

“It’s…” Loki bit his lip as he considered. “I think it’s Tony who appears distressed. He’s angry. He has been since before he came here.”

“Does he not want this arrangement?” And, as he so often did, he sounded as if he knew, and just wanted to see if Loki would be honest.

Loki thought for a moment before answering with, “Even if we pretend that there’s no issue with Nidavellir, I know that Tony’s relationship with his father is fractured, and he’s…” He sighed. “He’s too tired to wish it any worse.”

“It sounds to me, Your Highness, as if neither of you want to be married,” said Heimdall. “If you don’t mind me saying.”

Loki laughed. “And yet, I feel as if I tried to escape the arrangement I would end up a fish swimming upstream.”

“Perhaps,” said Heimdall, “but your father would never send Thor after you.”

Mm. Odin wouldn’t have to.

Loki crossed his arms. “I swear to you that I’m fine.”

“I do hope so,” sad Heimdall. “I certainly can’t dissolve this betrothal.”

*

Tony had been kind enough to join Loki in the library. At the insistence of Rhodes, that was, who had started training with the Warriors Three and appeared to want some peace. Tony sat across from Loki at a table, frowning at the book that was resting in front of him.

“So, what do you guys have against words in your storybooks?”

“We’re more of a word of mouth culture,” said Loki. “How do the merchants do it?”

Tony smirked. “Trust me, they’re more fun in Nidavellir.”

“Mm.” In thought, Loki linked his fingers together on the table. “My father always insisted upon the utmost respect for the Dwarves. Though, he does consider them a little … militaristic.”

“Funny that he wanted his family marrying into mine, then,” Tony muttered. “Damn it. There’s bestiality now. You guys are fucking weird. I expected better.”

“No you didn’t.”

“You’re right.” Tony patted Loki’s forearm, grinning. And he kept his hand there, just resting against Loki’s sleeve.

“You’re absurd.”

Tony winked. Then, suddenly, he was frowning. He let go of Loki’s arm. “I really am sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t know.” Tony sighed, closing the book. “This is a lot, right?”

“You seem to have a tendency to assume that I can read your mind, My Lord.”

Tony shrugs. “Something about you … You kind of give off the impression that you can. And … Okay, look.” He took a breath. “I’ve been feeling bad because you’re—especially now. Because—”

“Tony, please.”

“I know. Sorry. You’re my friend, and it’s…” A breath. “I’m sure it’s fine.” He grinned, and rested his chin on his hands. “I don’t want you to kiss me unless you want to kiss me. Promise.”

Loki raised his eyebrow.

“You need to stop that. It’s not helping…” Tony cleared his throat. “It’s not helping anything.”

Loki smiled.

“I suppose it’s nice,” Tony mused. He tapped the table next to Loki’s hand. “Rhodey’s the only one who yells at me anymore. Dad hasn’t been able to for days. I think my blood pressure’s gone down.”

“And to think that only this morning my father was criticizing my outfit.”

“Oh, because you where the same fucking thing every single day?” Tony smiled. This small, sad, smile. “Uh. But actually, you were right about … Something happened in Nidavellir. To me. Pissed off my dad. Not that he said it, but I’ve fucked up enough of his plans and I know him well enough to know he was pissed. And that whole thing is why we came here late.”

Loki bit his lip. He realized, rather suddenly, that Tony was very good at rendering him unsure what to say.

“It’s fine,” Tony said. “I don’t want to talk about it. I just wanted you to know.”

“Why?”

Tony was frowning, and he was frowning at Loki’s hand. Then, he took hold of that hand and started stroking it with his thumb. He looked up at Loki through his lashes, perhaps because he expected protest. When Loki offered none, he said, “Well, I mean, you’re my betrothed, aren’t you?”

“Mm.”

Loki’s chest had constricted.

Tony chuckled. “Have you … given any thought to what you’re, you know, comfortable with?”

Loki took a deep breath, and said, “I’m fine as we are.”

“Yeah,” said Tony. He was staring at their interlaced fingers. “Me too.”

* 

Odin stood again on his favorite balcony. His lips were pursed, one hand clenched where it rested on the stone barrier in front of him. The other hand tapped the stone twice with some air of finality, though he had yet to speak.

“Your brother is angry.”

Loki swallowed. He was standing several feet away from his father, his hands clasped behind his back. “I believe that he’s behaved admirably.”

“And yet,” said Odin, teeth clenched, “he’s angry. He disagrees with this arrangement.”

“He’s not so naive that he doesn’t understand how these things work. He disagrees with how you handled it. With the fact that you didn’t tell him.”

“I shouldn’t need to. Does he know important this is?”

Loki stepped forward. “Does he?”

Odin turned to him, frowning. “It’s important that the merchants consider us allies, Loki.”

“I know.”

Odin let out a breath of laughter, shaking his head. “As I told you, our relationship with the Dwarven smiths was failing. Our cultures are vastly different. Our trade deals were falling apart, and they didn’t trust us as their allies in combating those Dwarves who are stealing weaponry from the smiths.” He smiled. “But, I’ve already received word from Nidavellir congratulating us on the engagement.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “ _You_ received word?”

Odin chuckled. “Politics is a strange creature.”

Loki nodded, allowing himself a breath of empty laughter.

Odin sighed, gaze fixed on the buildings below. “You must understand, Loki, if what Tony tells us about Sir Henry is true, then the situation in Nidavellir is more fragile than I thought.”

“I’m afraid that I know little about the situation in Nidavellir,” Loki said. And this wasn’t _entirely_ true, but there were definitely gaps in his knowledge.

Odin cocked his head. “Did you not hear what happened to Tony?”

“He did tell me that something happened,” said Loki. “He didn’t want to talk about it.”

Odin nodded. “No matter. Sir Henry aside, we’re served better by having the merchants and smiths as our friends. It maintains a peace for us.” His stare was intense. He turned to Loki, placed his hands on his arms, and said, “This betrothal has already helped our relationship with the merchants and smiths, and once the marriage is secured, so too will be this relationship. And let us not forget that there are those on the borders of Asgard with whom Howard Stark has more sway than I do. You understand that our status will be damaged if this marriage fails, yes?”

Loki nodded. “Yes.”

Odin smiled. He placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “You’re a sharp one, my son.”

Loki certainly didn’t feel such.

Less than ten minutes later, Loki reported this exchange to Tony. They sat together on the same step where they had conversed a number of times before, where Loki and Thor had conversed many times over the years—always when Thor was angry. Loki had been holding a book against his torso as a makeshift shield, but as the conversation went on he found the strength to abandon it, placing it on the step before him.

“So, for this marriage to be legal, it has to be consummated, right?”

“Yes.”

“And your dad basically told you that it won’t go well for any of us if this marriage doesn’t happen?”

“Yes.”

Tony nodded. “So, how would they know if we didn’t, you know…”

Loki almost laughed. “Oh, the extent to which I don’t want to think about that is—”

“Okay, okay. I know. I’m sorry.” Tony leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know it’s not a fun question, but I was up all night worrying about it and—What?”

Tony was frowning at Loki. Loki’s eyebrow had shot up. He crossed his arms, smirking, and said, “You didn’t sleep because you were up all night worrying about not having sex with me?”

“Oh, fuck off, Odinson.” Tony picked up Loki’s book and threw it at him. It hit Loki’s chest fell onto his lap. “You’re the one whose innocence I’m trying to protect here.”

Loki shook his head, picking up his book and dropping it to the floor.

“No, I mean it,” said Tony. “True innocence is rare, and it’s not fair to deflower you without any thought to—”

Loki pushed him. He toppled down the steps. He swore loudly as he began to clamber back up, but he was laughing. Loki was only half focused on it, however, as he was growing rather distracted by the pain in his torso.

“Are you alright?” Tony asked.

“Mm.” Loki frowned. “I think I’m bleeding internally.”

Tony laughed. He hadn’t yet reached his seat. He was frozen in the action of climbing, one hand on the ground next to Loki, his face inches from Loki’s. Suddenly, his expression darkened.

“I don’t want to kiss you,” he said.

Loki refused to falter. “You did before.”

“I know,” said Tony. “It’s different now, though, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

Tony frowned. He bit his lip. Then, out of nowhere, he grinned. He pressed a theatrical, sloppy kiss to Loki’s cheek and flopped onto the step.

“That was…” Loki wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. “Unpleasant.”

“Mm.” Tony clicked his tongue. “Is this what we get?”

“Hm?”

“Not that I’m bitter. I don’t care what Rhodey says, I’m not an adult child. But it’s hard not to be pissed off. Dad’s off having fights with Pymmy and rogue Dwarves and making deals with the smiths. Your dad’s—well, he’s Odin, so that’s … And Pepper’s inheriting what I was meant to, not that I—”

“Did you want to inherit from your father?”

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know. I know Pepper’s a better leader than me. Hard not to feel a little rejected, though. ‘Let’s marry him off to one of the Odinsons. Then he’s not my problem anymore.’”

“You didn’t protest the arrangement.”

Now, Tony did laugh. “Was I supposed to start an argument? Don’t we have enough of those already? They did this to secure an alliance between our people, and don’t people agree that that’s for the best?” He cleared his throat. “I’m no politician, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care.”

Loki sensed that there was something else to it. “Still,” he said. “I can tell that you’re angry.”

“Oh, good _spot_ , Odinson,” Tony said, throwing up his arms. “I heard that you were perceptive.”

“This isn’t my fault, Tony. And I admit that I didn’t protest either, so I promise that there’s no judgment for you not doing so.”

“S’pose you’re right,” said Tony. He was staring off into space. “S’pose I am angry.”

Loki nodded. He rested his hand on Tony’s arm. “May I…?”

Tony’s head snapped up. “What?”

“Why did you want to kiss me?”

“You said that I have an Asgardian temper?”

Loki smiled. “You do.”

And, though it didn’t reach his eyes, Tony grinned. “You have a merchant’s mind.”

Loki felt, somehow, that he should be insulted. But perhaps that was only fair.

*

Loki took Tony to the cave where, on the day that he came of age, Thor and Fandral took Loki to throw his least favorite books into the dirty water. Tony seemed enraptured by that story, yet unsettled by the atmosphere, so it wasn’t long before Loki took his hand and led him back outside.

“I’m alright,” Tony insisted. “I’m not afraid of caves.”

“I don’t recall saying that you were.”

Tony’s eyes darted around as if he was looking for people. People who couldn’t possibly be there. Quite suddenly, he wrapped his arms around Loki’s waist. Then, waited. It seemed like he expected Loki to protest, and, though his heart appeared to have tied itself in a knot, Loki didn’t. Instead, he said, “This isn’t comfortable.”

“Mm. I’m sorry,” said Tony jokingly. “So, that’s really what you did when you came of age?”

“It is.” Loki considered. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders. “I didn’t want to do anything violent.”

“That’s fucking adorable.”

Loki’s jaw clenched. “That isn’t—”

“That’s not what you were going for?” Tony asked with a laugh.

Loki bristled.

“Don’t be a dick, Odinson,” said Tony, laughing again. “It’s still hot.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

Suddenly, Tony was frowning. He let go of Loki, and Loki let go of him also. After taking a step back, Tony said, “Is it really so hard to believe that someone’s attracted to you?”

Loki shrugged.

“Wow,” said Tony. He grinned. He hopped forward and threw his arm around Loki, nearly throwing him off balance. “Wow, they’ve engaged me to an idiot.”

“I’m no fool, My Lord.”

“I know. And I might not know you very well, but I do know that for someone with a reputation for being perceptive, you seem to have a lot of trouble seeing what’s right in front of you.” He smirked. “Come on. I need to go piss off Rhodey.”

Loki nodded, and allowed himself to be dragged by the hand back home.

* 

Asgard received word that Hank Pym, accompanied by his daughter and some previously incarcerated man, had stolen weaponry from one of Howard Stark’s storehouses. Tony gave himself what Odin always called a “tavern fracture” punching the nearest wall at the news.

Of course it was Loki who took Tony to the infirmary. They were reporting problems with their equipment, and said that there would be some delay in treating Tony. Tony waved away their frantic apologies with a bright smile, swinging his legs off the side of the bed.

Leaning against the same bed, Loki frowned. “You seem—”

“Chipper?” Tony’s smile widened. “Yeah, I’m dangerously chipper, me.” He stared at his injured hand, frowning. “So much for not being melodramatic.”

Loki sidled closer. His throat was dry. “Are you—?”

“Gee, Loki, I’m _swell_.” He huffed. “I know what I told Odin, but I didn’t think that Pymmy would do something like this. Do your guys know what they took?”

“They’re hardly ‘my guys.’ But as far as I heard, the message didn’t say. Though…” Loki smirked. “Heimdall has his opinions.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about it right now.”

“My hand’s fine, Loki. It’s not like this has never happened before.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Mm.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a medic arriving. She gave Loki several dark looks as she worked, as well as a speech about how it was unnecessary to treat this with an immobilizing cast, as if that was somehow relevant to Loki. Her attitude perplexed Loki too much for him to want to comment. She parted with a polite, “My Lord,” and a stiff, “Your Highness,” when she was done.

“Six to eight weeks,” Tony muttered. “S’pose this is how you now I’m not a true blood Asgardian.”

“Thor has done worse,” said Loki.

“Yeah, and he says you have, too,” said Tony with a breath of laughter. He looked tired. “But hey, I’m Tony Stark. It would be irresponsible of me not to—Shit.” His eyes widened, as his attention was caught. He smiled, but the smile was weak. “Afternoon, Your Majesty.”

Ah, of course. Odin had arrived. He approached with a placid smile on his face, his hands behind his back. He stopped several feet away from them, making eye contact with Loki for a brief moment before widening his smile.

“My Lord,” he said, “are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve had worse.” His eyes flitted to Loki for a moment. “And if you’re talking about Pymmy, then I’m as well as you could expect.”

“It was good of you to say something about Sir Henry’s disagreements with your father.”

“I didn’t expect him to do anything like this,” Tony murmured. “I mean, Pymmy’s not my dad’s biggest fan, but … his heart’s always been in the right place.”

“In the right government, that loses you your position as adviser,” Loki said.

Odin nodded, once, but he looked displeased. “There’s concern in Nidavellir. There’s no reason to think that Sir Henry might try something like this again. Or, something worse.”

Loki frowned. “It was a team of three. How much concern could they warrant?”

Odin closed his eye. Took a breath. Opened it again. “I’ve had to assure King Howard and the Dwarven smiths that we’re still their friends, and aim to have the ceremony in two months. Do you understand?”

Tony nodded. Loki imitated him seconds later.

“Apologies for moving up the date, but we don’t have much choice. We could indeed make it much sooner, but I don’t want us to look like we’re panicking, hm?” Odin said. “I hope you feel better soon, My Lord.”

“Yeah.” Tony coughed. “Thanks, Your Majesty.”

Odin nodded and departed.

Loki didn’t like the way that the medics were looking at them. He raised his eyebrow at the woman closest and she looked away. Soon, the others did the same.

Well, should the need arise, at least Loki was in the right place to be sick on the floor.

Tony had gone pale. “Hey, at least we have a deadline on that one.”

“Quite.”

“He’s your dad,” Tony said. “I mean—fuck.” He was looking at Loki a little too intensely. He bit his lip. “Does he know, or, I mean, care, that you’re—?”

“Don’t.” Loki placed his hand on Tony’s shoulder, gaze moving momentarily to his injured hand. “Don’t.”

Tony nodded, eyes closed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tony’s eyes snapped open. “You know, I really don’t want to talk about it. We’re already…” He smiled. “We’re already doing our part to _help_ , right?”

Loki smiled. “Right.”

“Is this really what we get? Your brother ends up king of Asgard, Pepper as queen of the merchants guild, and we get married off and … what?”

“ _And_ married in two months.”

“ _In two fucking months_ ,” said Tony. He laughed. “My hand hurts.”

Loki squeezed Tony’s shoulder. “Like I said, Thor’s done worse.”

“It’s not fair, Loki. It’s not fair that you have to do this in two months. I mean, you’ve never even…” He sighed. “I think our dad’s might be dicks.”

Loki couldn’t help but laugh. “I’d stop before you hit treason, My Lord.”

“Fine, but then what good is a sense of humor? Really. This doesn’t even feel real.” He pouted at Loki. “I barely know you.”

“We both agreed to this.”

“Yeah,” said Tony.

Loki nodded. He considered, for a moment, moving his hand. But no. He left it there. He squeezed Tony’s shoulder again, leaned in, and said quietly, “Perhaps, My Lord, we would be best served by getting to know each other a little better.”

“I…” Tony cleared his throat. “Alright.” He smiled. “Still comfortable with, uh, how we are?”

“I am.”

“Huh.” A moment’s pause, then, “You know, Fandral doesn’t have a problem with me because he thinks there’s something suspicious going on with my people. It’s because he’s jealous.”

Loki raised his eyebrow, dropping his hand from Tony’s shoulder. He wished that he had the will to laugh. “Don’t be stupid.”

Tony held up his hands as if surrendering—and winced. “Fine. Believe what you want. But don’t be surprised if he doesn’t take kindly to us _getting to know each other_ , that’s all I’m saying.”

“And it’s stupid,” said Loki. In all seriousness, would vomiting again discredit his reputation?

“Mm.” Tony cocked his head. “Can I kiss you?”

Loki swallowed. He took a breath—it was jagged—and said, “Get to know me better first.”

Tony nodded. “I can do that.”

*

Loki didn’t realize that he had been withdrawn since the announcement until Thor and Fandral commented on it. In his mind, he’d spent enough time with Tony to avoid being antisocial. He didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to his mood, however, so he agreed to join Thor, Fandral, and the others at the training grounds, where he stood alone some distance from the rest. And, of course, Tony and Rhodes joined them after they had been there just a short while.

Tony ran up behind Loki and grabbed his shoulder. “Guess what,” he said, as Rhodes walked by with a nod in Loki’s direction.

Loki spun on his heel, raising his eyebrow. “What, My Lord?”

“ _I_ have been asked to help repair some of the machinery in the infirmary. I have something to do!”

Loki smiled. He couldn’t help it; Tony’s eyes were sparkling. “I’m glad.”

“Well.” Tony raised his right hand. “They keep having me down there anyway, but their tech’s still acting up so thing’s have been delayed, and—Anyway. It turns out I can help.” He winked. “With one hand tied behind my back.”

Loki chuckled. “I really am glad.”

“Yeah.” Tony’s grin vanished. “Thanks, uh…” He looked over Loki’s shoulder. “Thanks. I’ve been feeling a little like a spare part since … before I got here, actually.”

Suddenly, a smiling Fandral was standing beside Loki. “I heard that you’ve been repairing the damage in the infirmary. I’m happy for you, My Lord.”

Tony grinned. “Thanks, Fandral. Turns out that Asgardian engineers don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.”

“I shouldn’t comment,” said Fandral with a chuckle.

Tony’s grin widened. Then suddenly, his attention was elsewhere. “Don’t look at me like that, Volstagg! You know I could take you!”

A thundering life sounded somewhere behind Loki.

“And hey,” said Tony, hitting Loki’s arm. “The same guard from the night we met’s over there. Him and his pike.”

Loki looked around, and indeed saw the same stern, decorative sentry. He was looking right at Loki. Loki nodded and said, “And that’s still a polearm.”

Tony laughed. “I’m gonna go watch Rhodey show Volstagg how this is done, okay?”

“Oh, please do.”

Tony departed, leaving Loki and Fandral alone. Loki made a point of stepping round so that he would be the one facing the training ground, Fandral with his back to it. Fandral’s smile was gone.

“And he says that he isn’t a politician,” Fandral muttered.

“What’s that?”

“You know what I mean. That smile is pure facade,” Fandral said. “He’s hiding something.”

“Mm.” Loki watched Tony laugh at something that Thor had said. “In a manner of speaking.”

Fandral took a step forward. He was less than a foot away from Loki. “He doesn’t want to marry you.”

“Fandral…”

Fandral’s eyes narrowed. “Do you want to marry him?”

It was a miracle that Loki didn’t laugh. “Don’t be absurd. I was hardly ecstatic at the sudden plan to marry me to a man I barely know.”

“In a couple of months, isn’t it?”

Loki nodded.

“So, if I may…” Fandral looked briefly over his shoulder. “What _is_ your relationship with Prince Tony?”

“Oh!” Loki snapped his fingers. “I did mean to tell you. We’re getting married.”

“Oh, very funny,” Fandral said. “But I’m afraid I’m not convinced.”

Loki quirked his eyebrow. “Of what, My Lord?”

“I understand that this is a lot of pressure, and I know that you’re—”

“If you say ‘inexperienced’ then I will throw you off the Bifrost,” Loki snapped.

“Fine,” said Fandral. Some distance behind him, Sif smacked Volstagg on the back of the head and Tony caught Loki’s eye as he laughed. “But, Loki,” Fandral continued, “I didn’t leave the library.”

Loki blinked. He took a step backward. “What?”

“I’m sorry, I am, but I heard what Tony said and I don’t trust it.”

“Could you … specify?”

Fandral smiled, and it was bitter. And, with a creditable imitation of Tony’s accent, he said, “Can I kiss you?”

Loki returned the smile, but he hoped that it lacked the bitterness. He took a step forward, and then another, stopping at Fandral’s side. His eyes moved to Tony, before he looked back to Fandral and said, “No.”

Fandral raised an eyebrow. His smile now appeared genuine. “I heard that Thor had an argument with your father about the wedding, but he won’t talk to me about it.”

Loki shook his head and left Fandral. He approached the rest of the group, clasping his hands behind his back.

“You seem popular,” he said to Tony.

“Asgardians love an injury.”

Loki raised his eyebrow. “Quite.”

Volstagg laughed, and stumbled away towards Sif and Hogun. Thor remained, but he didn’t seem to know what to say. Loki considered for a moment. He decided to brave it.

“What’s this that I hear about you arguing with Father?”

Thor’s eyes widened. “I…” He managed, as Tony turned to him.

“So you are still upset about this?” Loki prompted.

Thor bit his lip. “I offered my help with the ceremony. That might have been a mistake.”

“And this surprises you?”

Tony crossed his arms. It seemed that he was content to observe.

“I had to offer something, Loki. I know that you agreed to this, but that doesn’t mean that we should just _let_ it happen to you.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Don’t be like that, brother. Have you had anything to do with the ceremony?”

“I haven’t wanted to,” said Loki, stiffly.

“Nor has Tony,” said Thor. And when Tony nodded, “And I should be angry. You haven’t been yourself since they arranged this.”

Loki refused to answer that. And it appeared that Thor was in no mood to wait for a reply, either, as he went without protest when Volstagg called him over, clapping Loki’s shoulder in farewell.

“He might have a point,” Tony said. Then, “Fandral’s glaring at me.”

“I’m sure you’re imagining things.”

“I’m sure,” said Tony. “Uh, can I talk to you later? You know, since we’re … getting to know each other.”

“Of course.”

“Great.”

And with that, Tony grinned, grabbed Loki’s hand and dragged him over to the middle of the training ground. Loki was tired of socializing about ten minutes later.

*

It hurt to laugh. Loki was lying on his front on the hard floor of his bedroom, tracing aimless shapes with his finger. Tony more or less mirrored his position. He held his injured hand elevated, making it easy for him, in the odd moments when he got distracted, to stare at it as if it had done him a great personal wrong.

“No, Tony,” said Loki. He shifted slightly in an attempt to lessen the pain in his ribs. “I must insist. You started this story in a cavern in Nidavellir. How did it end with you hitting a tree?”

Tony’s mouth fell open. “Are you questioning the merchant prince, Your Highness?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare.” And, when Tony winced a moment later, “Are you alright?”

“It’s my own fault for blaming the wall. And we’re already helping, so—No.” He grinned. “At least I’ve got some good stories.”

“Good in that you seem to gain the ability to teleport.”

Tony laughed, shaking his head. “I just had to get out of there fast, alright? I mean, that woman wasn’t exactly my friend after I—And hey…” He frowned, suddenly. His eyes darkened. “I’m not big on caves. Still not afraid of them, and all, but…”

Loki’s fist clenched. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

“Yeah,” said Tony. “Me too. Hey, can you help me up?”

Loki nodded. He rose to his feet, perhaps a little less elegantly than he would have liked, and took hold of Tony’s left hand and right elbow to help him stand. And it almost went well. Then Tony stumbled and threw his arms around Loki’s shoulders, and Loki nearly toppled over.

“Ah. There we go,” said Loki.

Tony laughed against Loki’s shoulder. “Shit. That was sexy.”

“I shouldn’t comment.”

“Sure you should.” Tony’s face was inches from Loki’s. “You know, I shouldn’t have wasted that punch on a wall.”

“Oh? And what would have been your preferred target?”

Tony winked. He then stumbled to Loki’s bed and took a seat, resting his elbows on his knees. When Loki raised his eyebrow, Tony grinned.

“Should I be in here?” he asked.

“Honestly, no.” Loki smiled. “But, if you recall, you found your way in here yourself.”

“Yeah. Well. It’s not my fault that I’m smarter than your guards.”

“Oh, I’d imagine that they aren’t paying attention.”

“Does Thor have guards?”

“They trust Thor,” said Loki. He frowned. “They shouldn’t.”

Tony laughed. He patted space on the bed next to him, and, feeling as if he’d entered some surreal realm, Loki took a seat.

“So,” said Tony, “seeing as even Thor offered to help, is it weird or is it fucking weird that they’re planning our wedding and haven’t … spoken to us about any of us about any of it?”

“I don’t know. Are you one for wedding planning?”

“Hey, I’m great at a party. But I didn’t think I’d ever get married.”

“No.” Loki smiled. “You don’t strike me as the type.”

“And what does that mean?” A breathe of laughter. “Ah, I guess you’re right. And I know you didn’t hear my how-I-lost-my-virginity story, but … it doesn’t paint a picture of a gentleman. It’s a good story, though.”

“Mm. And does it involve you teleporting into a tree?”

“I ran into the tree.”

“Vertically out of a Nidavellir cavern?”

Tony pushed Loki’s arm. “Come on. I think you owe me a story.”

Loki shook his head. He found his gaze drifting to the other side of the room, to the large door that one could barely shut without slamming. “Thor is the one who makes stories for himself. I’m afraid I’m rather uninteresting.”

“I don’t believe that,” said Tony, and Loki was bothered by how quiet his voice was.

“Well,” said Loki, shrugging, “I do know a good few ways out of Asgard that I shouldn’t.”

“Oh, really?” Tony rested his chin on Loki’s shoulder, wrapping his arm around Loki’s. “Could you get to Nidavellir?”

Loki cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t.”

“I’m not asking you to.” He made a little humming noise. “You still owe me a story.”

“Would you like me to share one of the stories that my mother used to tell me?”

“That sounds … intimate.”

“Tony.”

Tony pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“Alright,” said Loki. “I can tell you my favorite.”

Tony made another little humming noise. It sent a weird tingle up Loki’s neck.

Loki took a breath. He felt dizzy. “There was once a kingdom, ancient, famous for its palace. It was said to be the most beautiful palace in existence, with windows that shone in the sun and towers that sought to reach the sky. But the true pride of the kingdom was its king.”

“Mm.” Tony shifted, pressing his forehead against Loki’s shoulder. “He sounds like a douche.”

Loki smiled. “He kind of was.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Will you be quiet?”

Tony blew a raspberry. “Fine.”

“Now,” said Loki, “the king had an adviser. He was the king’s oldest and dearest friend, and the king loved him like a brother.”

And, from there, he continued.

*

“I should apologize.”

Loki, standing on Odin’s favorite balcony, turned to see Fandral hovering in the doorway. He regarded him for only a moment before turning away with a shake of the head and, “No.”

Fandral said nothing. Loki heard only his approaching footsteps, felt the heat of his body when he stopped and his arm was touching Loki’s. And yet, through the quiet, Loki sensed the question in the air.

“I don’t want an apology.”

“Oh,” said Fandral, “I don’t mean to apologize for my opinion, but I am sorry for the way I expressed it.”

Loki nodded. “And how would you like to express it now that you’ve been enlightened?”

“You don’t…” Fandral’s eyes locked with Loki’s. “You don’t deserve this.”

A breath of laughter escaped Loki’s lips before be could stop it. “Fandral, it’s not—”

“Don’t give me a speech about how arranged marriage isn’t evil.” Fandral sighed. He rested his hand on Loki’s forearm. “It is if the people betrothed don’t want to be married, and I know that you don’t.”

“I agreed to it.”

“Because you thought it was the right thing to do. And perhaps it is, politically, whatever my opinion of the merchants. But this is your life, Loki.”

Loki shrugged. He couldn’t look at Fandral anymore.

“You can hardly blame me for being suspicious of Tony. He’s not known you long, and he has his own agenda.”

“As does everyone, including you.” With a breath that he hoped was subtle, he looked back to Fandral. “He’s my friend.”

“Am I not?”

Loki laughed. “Don’t be childish.”

Fandral’s grip on Loki’s arm tightened. “Your Highness, please,” he said. “It’s your right to agree to this, but how can they ask this of you? They declare that you’re to marry Tony. They make you sit here and wait for the wedding. And when you’re married … what then? Is this what you get?”

“Funny,” said Loki. “Tony said something similar.”

“For once Prince Tony and I agree on something.”

“Fandral, really. What else was I going to get? The throne is Thor’s. What’s my duty?”

“If your duty is submitting to a marriage that you don’t want, then I’m afraid I can’t agree with it. You’ve not been yourself since this betrothal. And that might mean less of a headache for most of us…” He smiled, gentle. “It worries me.”

Loki swallowed. His throat and lips were dry. “Odin has … assured me that I can’t back out of this.”

“I know. Do what you must. But don’t allow yourself to be trapped,” said Fandral.

“Tony _is_ my friend, Fandral.”

“And I’m glad. But, can I ask you…?”

Loki huffed. He turned, forcing Fandral to let go of his arm. Quietly, he said, “Go on.”

“I’m afraid that I did notice, even when he first arrived, that Tony was … fond of you. Did you return those feelings.”

Loki shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Do you know now?”

“I…” Loki sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright, but I know that you’re…” He smirked. “However you’d like me to phrase it.”

Loki raised his eyebrow to cover his desire to jump from the balcony. “You know, when I tell Thor _why_ I threw you off the balcony, I doubt that he’ll blame me.”

“I think you’re right,” said Fandral with a laugh. The atmosphere of this conversation had been … disorienting.

“I want to do this,” said Loki quietly. “It serves Asgard best if the merchants are our allies. And securing that … that’s what I get.”

“Mm.” Fandral clicked his tongue. “Feels a little like swimming upstream.”

Loki nodded.

“Just … just do me a service,” Fandral said. He rested his hand on Loki’s. “You might be a headache, but … be yourself.”

Loki smiled. “If you insist.”

“It is strange that whatever happened to Tony delayed the merchants’ visit by months and we don’t know what _did_ happen. I mean, do you really think that Howard wanted him out of Nidavellir for no reason?”

Loki blinked. Was that an attempt at manipulation? He opted for saying, “Thank you for your counsel.”

Fandral squeezed his hand. “Of course.”

*

It was at dinner the following night that Loki braved the question. Tony was sitting next to him, looking a tad forlorn, and Loki leaned towards him to ask, “Are we hiding anything?”

Tony looked up. He hadn’t given his food any attention anyway. “Are we?”

“Fandral’s offered … further opinion,” said Loki. “He thinks that you’re hiding something.”

Tony’s eyes traveled to Fandral, who hadn’t deigned to look in their direction all evening. “Doesn’t he always?” he asked. “There had to be something else to whatever conversation you had, right?”

Well. Loki didn’t want to share all of it, but he did say, “He pointed out that I haven’t been myself since the betrothal.”

Tony nodded. He rested his chin on his hand.

“I suppose that he’s right,” said Loki. “He asked me to work on it.”

“Maybe we both should. I haven’t … I haven’t been myself since … well, I don’t know when,” said Tony. “But what good is getting to know each other if we’re keeping so much of ourselves back?”

“Indeed,” said Loki, narrowing his eyes.

“Not like…” Tony sat up straight. “I’m not hiding anything, you know, suspicious.”

Loki smiled. “Alright, My Lord.”

“Your Highness.” Tony grinned, and whispered, “Can I kiss you?”

Loki quirked his eyebrow. “Here?”

“Sure. It’d really freak everybody out.”

“You,” said Loki, “should eat something.”

“I’d love to. But that fucker with the polearm is eyeing me again and it’s really putting me off.”

Loki said nothing else. Instead, he turned away and allowed Thor to steal Tony’s attention.

When dinner was done, Loki excused himself to take a walk alone. He slipped through the halls, following the route of the reassigned guard. The guard settled in—well, by Asgard—exactly the same spot where he had been standing when Loki first met Tony. Loki stood out of sight, quiet, for some time. It was only when he was absolutely certain that there was no one else in the area that he stepped out and approached.

“Interesting security route for an ornament,” he said.

The guard barely moved. He regarded Loki out of the side of his eye. “I do wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

“I’m afraid I’m more honest than people give me credit for.” Loki crossed his arms, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “I notice that you spend a great deal of time watching Prince Tony. Certainly enough that it makes him nervous.”

“And why does this concern you?”

“He’s my betrothed,” Loki whispered.

The guard chuckled, though he still failed to make eye contact with Loki.

“Do you know what’s been going on in Nidavellir?”

“I know that some rogues have been causing problems for the smiths, and I know that some suspect Hank Pym of helping them. And that’s if we disregard our weakening relationship with the smiths,” said the guard flatly, like he was reciting something for a schoolmaster. “Why?”

“I’d be less eager to to question me if I were you, sir.” Loki took a step closer, and said, oh so quietly, “Do you know what happened to Prince Tony.”

The guard turned to him—quickly. “I can find out.”

“Good,” said Loki. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Do that.”

The guard nodded. “It will be done, Your Highness. As soon as I’m able.”

Loki acknowledged this with a single nod and made to walk away, when he was stopped by the guard saying, “It’s nice to hear from you again, Your Highness.”

“Behave,” said Loki, and he departed.

*

It was during the wait for information from the sentry that Tony received a message from Pepper. He stumbled into Loki’s room long after sundown, eyes wide, holding a scrunched up letter. Loki, who had been staring into the fire, almost catatonic, stood almost immediately upon hearing Tony enter.

“Are you alright?”

“I—Yeah.” Tony ensured that the door was shut properly, then fell against it. “I just heard from Pepper. She wanted me to hear this before it spread.” As he said it, he held up the crumpled letter.

Loki nodded. He was just in front of Tony a second later. The man’s breathing was just noticeably labored. His frame hung limp against the door. He was looking up at Loki with those wide eyes of his like Loki was the biggest mystery that he had ever encountered.

“Did you run here, My Lord?”

Tony smiled, letting out a breath. “I might’ve done.”

“Alright.” And Loki couldn’t help but return the smile. “Come on.”

Tony stuffed the letter into his pocket, so Loki took that hand and guided him to the bed, pulling him down to take a seat beside him. It was exactly the same position that they had been in when Loki told Tony the story of the adviser. They sat there for several moments, holding hands, silent, until finally Tony’s breathing settled.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know where else I was meant to go. Wasn’t, you know, sure what to make of this news.”

Loki cocked his head. “What is it?”

“It’s, uh…” Tony took a breath. He did appear visibly shaken. Loki wondered what could do this do him. “It’s Pepper,” he said, finally. “They’re marrying her to Happy.”

Loki nodded. “Ah.”

“Well.” Tony shifted. He cleared his throat. His eyes were fixed dead on the ground. “Maybe I didn’t say that right. I don’t know. She doesn’t seem mad about it. Actually, she’s fine. She’s okay.”

“Something like this was going to happen,” Loki said. He didn’t know what _else_ to say. He felt useless. “Your father may not want his biological heir, but he still needs to secure his lineage.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Tony. He sighed. “I just … I hope that she’s really okay with it because I know how I felt about—you know. I hope she doesn’t feel like she needs to lie for someone else’s benefit.”

Loki found himself chewing on his bottom lip. His thoughts drifted momentarily to the guard and the information that he was seeking. Loki didn’t want to ask Tony. There was no way that he would get an answer. He cleared his throat, watching Tony as the man stared blankly at the floor. He looked … defeated. It was unpleasant to witness.

“Are you…?” Loki cleared his throat. “Are you alright about this, My Lord?”

“You mean the whole thing where we’re betrothed?”

“Yeah.”

Tony smiled, squeezing Loki’s hand. “I’m fine. Really. You’re my friend. Like I said, I was just … I was just mad at my dad.”

Loki nodded. “Right.”

Tony’s smile widened. “I was thinking about that story you told me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. It’s important to you, isn’t it?”

Loki cleared his throat and ran his hand, rather uselessly, through his hair. “My mother used to tell it to me all the time. She thought it had important lessons to teach me, and it…” He huffed. “It stayed with me.”

“What lessons are they?”

“There are a few,” said Loki with a shrug. He was afraid to give a real answer. “My parents see the story completely differently, and I see it differently again.” He frowned. “Why were you thinking about it?”

“Pepper.” Tony shifted, turning where he sat so that he better faced Loki. “I kept thinking about that bit at the end where the guy’s chained up in a cave and the image just wouldn’t leave. I was thinking…” He sighed. “I was thinking that Pepper sounds okay because she doesn’t feel trapped. It’s not like she wants to marry Happy. It’s not like anything like that was ever a plan of hers. But she’s okay. And she’s okay because she knows herself and she knows she can still do everything she wanted. She’s fine.”

Loki was chewing on his lip again. He had no idea what he was supposed to say.

“I don’t feel trapped, Loki.”

Loki blinked. “Why not?”

Tony took in a loud breath that seemed to catch, and let out a rough cough that he made no effort to cover. He took a moment, and another steadying breath, before saying, “I like Asgard. I like being here. And I like…” Suddenly, he was frowning. He narrowed his eyes, looking Loki up and down. “You still don’t believe that I like you, do you?”

Loki shrugged. “No one has before.”

“Huh.” Tony looked thoughtful for a moment. “Do you like me?”

Loki swallowed. His throat had gone dry. “Are you sure that you want to talk about this?”

“Well I don’t want to talk about my dad’s politics, thanks.” He nudged Loki’s shoulder with his chin. “Come on. Do you?”

Loki took a breath. He forced a neutral expression as a stepping stone, then raised his eyebrow. The effort that this took was embarrassing. “I like … parts of you.”

Tony smirked. “Really?” He shifted, moving closer to Loki. Loki could feel his breath on his face.

“Tony—”

“Which parts? It’s not my Asgardian temper, I take it?”

“It’s…” Loki scanned Tony’s features. “It’s certainly something.”

“You, Your Highness…” And suddenly, in seconds, Tony was straddling him. One hand was resting firmly on his shoulder. The injured hand rested on the other shoulder lightly. “You are more mysterious than you have any right to be.”

“Does your hand hurt?” Loki asked, and his head and chest hurt so badly that he was beyond caring if it was a stupid question.

“Like a son of a bitch,” said Tony.

“Mm-hmm.” Loki frowned. “And what are we doing?”

“ _We_ are … experimenting,” said Tony. He bent down, stopping with his face inches from Loki’s. “Is that okay?”

Loki nodded.

“That’s uh … That would be why I came in here. I mean I wanted to talk about Pepper, but … I don’t really want to talk about Pepper, you know?”

“No.”

Tony sighed. He rapped Loki on the forehead. “See. Look. I know she’s not happy about having so much of her future arranged for her, but she does know what she wants. And she’s going to get it.”

Loki frowned, hoping more than was reasonable that the expression appeared skeptical. “And what do you want?”

“I want to stay in Asgard,” said Tony, voice barely audible. “I know I made those comments, all ‘Is this what we get?’ but I do want to stay here.”

Despite everything, Loki felt suspicion rising in the back of his mind. That seemed … in conflict with the way that Tony had acted before. Had he always felt like that? Was there something in the message from Pepper that he hadn’t mentioned? Was there something in the events that occurred back in Nidavellir, and could Loki expect to hear about it from his agent? He could—

Loki was violently distracted when Tony rested two fingers against his bottom lip and said, “I like parts of you too.”

The only signal reaching Loki’s brain appeared to be scrambled, and he was hearing something that sounded not dissimilar to Thor falling down the steps while dressed head to toe in armor. He asked, quietly, “And which parts are you referring to?” And Tony didn’t move his fingers as he asked it.

“Well…” Tony moved his hand, cupping Loki’s face. “You have an Asgardian heart.”

“Please never say that again,” said Loki, more sharply than intended.

“Yeah, that sounded weird when I said it,” said Tony. “But what I mean is—You know. I know you’re not exactly a hugger, but I’m sorry, Your Highness, the way you feel about things is obvious. You love your brother, and your mom, and … and your dad.”

Loki nodded, once. “Mm-hmm.”

“Hey, I like that. I like that about you. You act like you’re so detached, but then I get the impression that you’d tear the Nine Realms apart to protect the people you care about.”

“And where, by Asgard, did you _get_ that impression?”

“I don’t know. Just a … vibe,” said Tony. He suddenly seemed closer, if that were at all possible. “But I like that about you. I like … you.”

“I …” Loki closed his eyes, then forced them open again when he felt too exposed. “Thank you.”

Tony chuckled. “God, you’re too much,” he said. “Can I kiss you?”

Loki cleared his throat. He nodded. “Yes.”

Tony pulled back. His eyes were wide. His mouth was open, just slightly. This was clearly not the answer that he had expected. His voice was shaky as he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” said Loki firmly.

Tony appeared to shake himself. All of a sudden, he was nonchalant. He shrugged, muttered, “Alright,” and cupped Loki’s face again. A moment later, be bent down once more and pressed their lips together.

His lips were dry. As were Loki’s. There was no movement. In that moment, that second that lasted forever, they were still. It seemed that Tony didn’t want to push Loki. Not now. Loki expected his chest to constrict, his breathing to freeze, but it didn’t. In fact, he found his breathing steadying. And the surge of energy to his heart wasn’t … unpleasant. But his lips were really, very dry. And he had no idea what to do. And he was, he might admit, a little embarrassed.

Tony pulled away suddenly, and rested his forehead against Loki’s. “Are you alright?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Was that terrible?” asked Tony, with a breath of laughter. 

Loki smiled. “Well…”

“Good.” He tapped Loki’s shoulder. “I’m pretty sure your first kiss is supposed to be.” He pulled away again, and looked Loki up and down. “You know,” he said with a smirk, “I think parts of you might like me.”

“My Lord, don’t cause yourself another injury,” said Loki flatly.

Tony laughed. He swung his leg up and flopped onto the bed. Lying on his back, he looked up at Loki with this peculiar smile on his face. Loki did nothing other than look back at him. He didn’t know what to say.

“Your lips are dry,” Tony said. “Do you drink enough?”

“Pardon?”

“Sorry. Too much time around medics. They keep telling me that ale doesn’t really count and I—Honestly, Loki, they’re all dweebs.”

“Right.”

Tony rolled onto his side, resting his head on his arm. When he held out his hand, Loki mirrored his position. Loki said nothing, still uncertain what to say, as Tony frowned at him in apparent study.

“Your lips are also cold,” Tony said.

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Any other comments?”

Tony chuckled. “I didn’t mean anything by it, dumbass. I just meant, really. You’re always so…” He pushed at Loki’s face. “You must get cold a lot, hm?”

Loki shrugged, which wasn’t the easiest thing to do in the position that he was in. “Well…”

“Stop that.” Tony slid closer, with an arm around Loki’s midriff. When Loki nodded, Tony repositioned himself, propping himself up on his hand. Quietly, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Loki swallowed. “If you like.”

And, slowly, gently, as if he thought that Loki was some fragile thing that might break, Tony did.

*

It was dark outside. The Hall was illuminated only by the flickering, off-balancing torchlight and the noise of the crowd. The crushing, oppressive noise of the crowd. Loki felt dizzy. Indeed, he had barely managed to eat anything. His stomach had been churning and everything that he swallowed felt like sawdust against his throat. For the past hour he had been dealing with this alone, too, and that was really starting to—

And, oh. There was Tony.

“My Lord,” said Loki, sure to speak loudly to beat the crowd. “My Lord, you appear to be standing on the table.”

Tony spun on his heel. He kicked a plate and almost tripped over a goblet. “Hey, Loki!” he said, grinning. “I’m watching Thor have an argument with Fanny.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Is that what we’re calling him now?”

“Don’t you think he deserves it?” Tony’s eyes sparkled as he said it. It was probably the torchlight. He held out his arms. “Help me down.”

Loki rolled his eyes, but he acquiesced. Tony lost his balance again as he stepped onto the bench and he _tumbled_. Loki would have laughed. He couldn’t. He was winded. Tony smacked against Loki’s chest and gripped Loki’s midriff, sending Loki stumbling back several steps. Loki, who had grabbed Tony under the arms by instinct, helped him to his feet. It was only when Tony was steady that Loki saw all the eyes that were on the two of them.

“My Lord,” he said to the nearest onlooker. Then, to another, “My Lord.”

“M’lady,” Tony said with a nod to a man staring at them as he walked by. Then, to Loki, “Fuck, my hand.”

“Are you alright?” Loki asked.

Tony looked thoughtful for a minute. Then he shrugged and started grinning. He wrapped his arms around Loki’s shoulders as if there was nobody else in the room. “Thanks,” he said.

“Have you perhaps had a little too much to drink, My Lord?”

“I…” Tony blinked. “I am stone cold sober. I might be an embarrassment.”

Loki smiled. “Not at all.”

“We should, uh…” Tony nodded at whoever had just caught his eye. “Can we just get away from the middle of the room?”

Loki nodded, and led Tony to the side of the room, by the wall. They stood surveying the Hall together. This would where Loki would usually be most comfortable, though he pretended otherwise. But not tonight. No sooner had he and Tony stilled than the dizziness hit Loki with a fresh force and slid down the wall, coming to sit on the floor. Thankfully, Tony didn’t question this, and mimicked Loki’s action. They sat shoulder to shoulder.

“Where have you been all night?” Tony asked.

“Here.” Loki tapped the wall twice. “I’m not a fan of … these events. They’re shallow.”

“But you’re good at them.”

“When I need to be,” Loki said, shrugging.

Tony nodded. His head fell back against the wall. He looked at Loki, torchlight in his eyes. Loki didn’t want to think about what the look in Tony’s eyes meant—though he did have a fairly good idea.

Tony clapped his hand against his knee. “So, why are we celebrating?”

Loki was, perhaps, still a little breathless, and his throat still hurt, but he couldn’t help but laugh. They had spent the day at another one of those tournaments that Thor was so fond of. It had gone by so quickly, and yet somehow it had dragged. It was nice to spend the day in the company of Thor and the Warriors Three, always so upbeat, but this party in the Hall was the first time that Loki had spent any time with Tony. All day the sun had been too warm, and the crowd had been too large.

Thor hadn’t won. He was still too reckless for victory.

“We’re celebrating the outcome of today’s tournament, My Lord.”

“Right,” said Tony. “Name the winner, right now.”

Loki shook his head and looked away. He noticed as he did so that Tony’s hand had come to rest on his thigh.

Across the Hall, Thor dropped a plate and Fandral seemed distracted. Loki knew how he felt.

“The tournament is a celebration of Asgardian values,” he said. “If we don’t practice restraint with our friends then when we will learn it?”

“What?”

Loki cleared his throat. “Or something to that effect.”

Tony huffed, resting his head against Loki’s shoulder. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Loki chuckled.

“It’s not that it wasn’t fun,” said Tony. “I just…”

That was the last that Loki heard of Tony’s speech. It appeared that Tony’s hand had … wandered. It was traveling up Loki’s leg. Slowly … very slowly. Holding Loki more tightly than Loki thought he could dare hold him. He was still talking, but as he did he sat up, and started watching his hand, looking at it as if he was concentrating with _great_ effort.

“We, uh…” said Loki. “You shouldn’t be doing that.”

Tony blinks. He lets go of Loki’s leg. “Right,” he said. “Sorry.”

“No, I mean…” Loki was about to clear his throat, but that wasn’t the image that he wanted to create. Then, in thinking that, he cleared his throat. He shook that off as quickly as he could, leaned towards Tony, and said, “I mean, you shouldn’t be doing that _here_.”

Tony frowned at him. His eyes were dark, searching. He looked Loki up and down, and … his eyes settled. His eyes settled _more or less_ where his hand at been just moments before. _Hm_.

And then, suddenly, Tony grinned. “You’re right,” he said. He grabbed Loki’s hand. “Come on.”

And he dragged Loki out of the Hall. Quickly. So quickly that even Loki gave only a second’s thought to whether anyone would see them leaving, whether anyone would care.

Tony dragged him down a corridor. One of the corridors now dark, illuminated with flickering firelight. The torches even seemed to have been neglected, and a number of them emitted no light at all. Tony led Loki by the hand down the darkened corridor, around a corner, and pulled him behind one of the pillars. Loki was disoriented enough that he wasn’t quite sure where they were anymore. He wasn’t sure that he cared.

Though shorter than Loki, Tony reversed their positions and pushed Tony against the walls. He smiled at Loki like he knew a secret. The flickering light reflected, only just, in his brown eyes.

“Are you alright?” Tony asked. He had a smile on his face that didn’t match the searching look in his eyes.

“Of course I am,” said Loki against his lips. “How’s your hand?”

“Ah, I’ll deal with it,” Tony said. That hand, the injured hand, was resting gently against Loki’s hip. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve never fucked up my hand before. You know, one time I—”

Feeling himself get about ready to roll his eyes, Loki kissed Tony to stop him from hitting a ramble.

“Hey,” said Tony as soon as he was released. Again, he smiled. “Not a patient man, are you?”

Loki raised his eyebrow.

“Right,” said Tony, “and I’m the one with the Asgardian temper.”

“Mm.” Loki took Tony’s uninjured hand. “Well, I am Asgardian.”

And, before Tony could say anything else, Loki kissed him again. He wasn’t exactly sure where this confidence came from, but he was hardly going to complain.

*

Loki sat on the ground of the courtyard with Fandral, who appeared to be in excellent spirits. This was, perhaps, best indicated by the lewd images that he was drawing on the paving stones.

“That’s not … that’s not even anatomically accurate,” said Loki, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, and you would know.”

Loki spluttered. “I’m not—”

Fandral smiled. “Right, you had anatomy lessons. Of course.”

“Actually, I skipped those,” said Loki. “My tutor was terrifying.”

Fandral chuckled and returned to his drawing. “So, no Tony today?”

“He’s helping out in the infirmary, I believe.”

“Ah. You know, he did tell me once that he could outdo any Asgardian engineer with one hand tied behind his back, and now he has an opportunity to prove it.”

“He said the same to me.”

“Does he still mistrust me?”

Loki shrugged, shifting closer to Fandral—though avoiding the drawings. “No more than you do him. I think that he’s misinterpreted some of your actions as a poor reflection of your character.”

“Misinterpreted?”

Loki smiled, cocking his head. “Was the story that you told at the welcoming feast untrue?”

“Oh.” Fandral cleared his throat. “I told them that it was a kitchen maid. It wasn’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m a more private person than people assume.” He dropped his chalk and squeezed Loki’s shoulder. “And perhaps it _was_ a kitchen maid.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Mm-hmm.”

Fandral frowned. His eyes drifted momentarily and he let go of Loki’s shoulder. Then suddenly he grinned, teeth bared, and threw his arm around Loki. “Do you remember that ambassador from Vanaheim? The, uh, the one with the fondness for meed that got into a disagreement with Heimdall?”

Loki blinked. “ _No._ ”

“Yes, yes, I’m afraid so.” Fandral was laughing as he said it, but the laugh was awkward.

“What was he, Father’s age? That’s—”

“I know. I’m ashamed to admit it.” He released Loki, then dropped his head dramatically onto his shoulder. “I suppose I was used,” he added with a theatrical sigh. “There _was_ a kitchen maid. I met her a month later. Mentioning her seemed more convincing than making something up.”

“Not convincing enough for Tony, it would seem.”

“No. Nor would it have been for you.” He chuckled. “Perhaps you two _are_ a match.”

Loki shoved him. He fell onto those lewd scribblings of his. As he pushed himself up to a sitting position, he was spluttering. He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but at that moment they were interrupted.

“Excuse me, Your Highness.”

It was the sentry that Loki had sent on that little errand. He stood, dressed down, frowning, bags under his eyes, and holding what seemed to be a written note in his hands.

“You seem nervous,” said Loki. He could feel Fandral’s eyes on him. “You needn’t be.” He stood quickly and crossed his arms.

The guard’s eyes flitted to Fandral, who was sitting leisurely on the ground, leaning back against his hands with his fingers splayed.

“It’s fine,” Loki assured the guard.

The guard nodded. He cleared his throat. “I found it. It wasn’t well hidden. Did you even look yourself?” And, when Loki didn’t answer, “Well, here.” He held out the note. “Will that be all?”

Loki swiped the note from him and crumpled it behind it back. “This is fine. Thank you, sir.”

The guard nodded, and, with another sideways glance at Fandral, departed. It was only when he was gone when Fandral stood. And, in Loki’s ear, he said, “And what was that about?”

Loki shrugged. “I asked him to do something for me.”

“Is that so? Do you even know his name?”

Fandral laughed. He picked up his chalk. “Well, at least you’re acting like yourself. You’re not going to get into any trouble, are you?”

“I hope not,” said Loki.

“Mm. Me too.” Fandral patted Loki’s arm. “Come on. Aren’t we meant to be meeting Thor?”

“We are.” Loki nodded towards Fandral’s drawings. “Are you just going to leave those there?”

“I think so,” said Fandral, smirking. “Hurry up, Your Highness. You can read that drama of yours later.”

And Loki did. He wasn’t particularly surprised when he read it … but it did give him a rather unnerving thought.

*

Loki sat on Tony’s bed. He was alone. No sentries, and certainly not Rhodes, had been anywhere near the location. In his hand was the crumpled note that he’d been given earlier, and stuck on his mind was the information that had been scribbled in barely legible handwriting.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there when the door was inelegantly thrown open. Tony, as dressed down as Loki had ever seen him, entered. He was covered in some smeared black substance and carrying machine parts with one arm. And humming. Loudly.

He stopped dead when he saw Loki.

“Hey,” he said. He dropped the machine parts to the floor. “You’re in my bedroom. That’s new.”

“Indeed.” Loki cleared his throat. He further crumpled the note—deliberately in view of Tony—and stowed it in his pocket.

“What’s that?”

Again, Loki cleared his throat. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Good day. Stole some shit.” He pointed to the machine parts. “You?”

“Fandral drew inappropriate pictures in the courtyard and accused me of being…” Loki frowned. “Innocent.”

“Oh, that was Fandral? Nice. Maybe I misjudged him.” He said it with a sudden grin, then hopped across the room and flopped onto the bed. “Seriously, what is that?”

“I’m not sure that you want to know.”

“Well, clearly _you_ want me to know, or you would’ve, I don’t know, actually hidden whatever that is.”

“How perceptive.”

“Yeah.” Tony nudged Loki’s shoulder. “Come on, Odinson.”

“Well, we did agree that we should get to know each other better,” said Loki with a sigh. He was silent for a moment, playing at deep thought. Then, slowly, he removed the note from his pocket and handed it to Tony.

 Every movement of Tony’s was painfully slow. He not only unfolded the note, but smoothed out every crease against this leg, holding it roughly with his injured hand. And then, finally, he read. Or perhaps he had already done so. It certainly seemed that he was making a show of reading it. It took _so long_.

When he was finally done, he dropped the note. Weightless, unevenly wrinkled, it fell slowly to the floor. And it wasn’t until it landed that Tony asked, “Where did you get this?”

“A guard.”

“Did you ask him for it?”

“I did.”

Tony nodded. “I said that I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“We haven’t.”

“That’s not—Would you listen?” Tony turned more towards Loki as Loki’s fingers laced together. “I didn’t want to talk about it, but it’s not exactly a secret. Couldn’t you have asked Odin?”

“Maybe. But he does only reluctantly speak to me about things like that. And you and I _did_ agree that it would be best if we got to know each other better.”

“You said,” Tony muttered. “But … _this_ is what you chose to do?”

Loki shrugged. He considered answering, but no words came.

Tony nodded. He picked up the note without looking at it. His fist was clenched, resting against his knee, his injured hand limp at his side. Barely audible, he said, “I think you should leave.”

Loki smiled, nodded, and departed without another word. And the moment that the door shut behind him, he cursed himself with the horrible—but inevitable, no?—mental image that he should have anticipated: a fish swimming upstream.

By Asgard.

He looked back and stared at Tony’s door for several moments. He took a breath, cracked his knuckles, and returned to his own bedroom.

*

Loki remembered, as a child, growing ill at a feast much like the one that had been thrown to greet the Stark company. Violently ill. Certainly ill enough to cause an unpleasant disturbance, and to be picked up swiftly by Mother and carried from the room while Odin attempted to negate the buzz of the disquieted crowd.

For days after that feast people kept speaking around Loki, and very rarely to him. He remembered biting tones through clenched teeth, the theories about why he had got so ill, and he remembered never telling the adults about the dirty plant life that he’d pulled straight from the ground and eaten. He _definitely_ learned never to take one of Fandral’s dares because he’d be called a coward if he didn’t.

What Loki remembered most, however, was lying in bed, head hurting, curled up in a ball. He remembered nausea refusing to leave him and his stomach being in so much pain that it felt like it might split apart.

Still, if nothing else, he always thought that the memories served as a good warning. But not right now. Right now, they felt taunting.

Loki was sitting on the floor of the cave where he’d thrown away all those books. He couldn’t say why. It was where he had ended up. His legs were crossed. He was picking the dirt from his nails. And he felt exactly as he had done after that feast, after unleashing brown vomit all over the table.

“Melodramatic fellow, aren’t you?”

The voice echoed. It had sounded from the cave’s entrance, several feet behind Loki. But Loki didn’t turn. He didn’t look up. He didn’t move.

“Hello, Fandral.”

“Your Highness.” Fandral cleared his throat. “We aren’t all blessed with your talents, you know. It took me a long time to get here.”

“I didn’t ask you to come looking for me.”

Fandral sighed. Loki heard the man’s footsteps as he crossed the cave. He stopped beside Loki and crouched down.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Fandral asked. “I only know that nobody could tell me where you are.”

Loki shrugged. “Tony and I had a disagreement.”

“I see. I take it that you had that guard of yours source some information on him?”

Clearly, Loki didn’t need to answer. Fandral was already nodding. He sighed again, and sat, leaning on his hand.

“You’re lucky that it’s me here and not Thor, you know,” Fandral said. “You don’t want to be having this conversation with Thor.”

“And what conversation is that?”

“Come on, Loki. You and Tony can’t have a ‘disagreement’ and it go unnoticed, especially given—”

“I know that it does us a disservice to be so openly…” Loki sighed. He considered for a moment, then finally said, “You were right.”

Fandral blinked. “I was what now?” And, a moment later, “Forgive me, I just don’t believe I’ve ever heard you say that before.”

Oh, how Loki wished that he could be amused by that. Instead, he could only say, “Do you want to know what the guard told me?”

“Um…” Fandral frowned. “Should you be telling me that?”

And he asked it so politely. So politely that he clearly didn’t mean it. So Loki said, “It’s no huge secret. You’ll hear it eventually regardless.”

Fandral nodded. “Alright.”

Loki took a breath. He straightened his back. Almost imperceptibly, he felt Fandral move closer to him.

“The Stark company were delayed because of a criminal organization in Nidavellir,” Loki began. “Most of what they’ve done is steal weaponry, but they…” He could feel Fandral’s eyes on him. “They took Tony. Kept him. In a cavern, of some sort.” He gestured to the space around him. “King Howard told him not to discuss it, but he wanted to remain in Asgard because of what happened, and that’s why he didn’t protest the arrangement.”

“Right,” said Fandral, “but, in all fairness, I didn’t like him before I knew about Odin and Howard’s plan.”

Loki frowned.

“Sorry, sorry, I just…” Fandral’s hand moved to rest on top of Loki’s. Loki found that he didn’t want to protest. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You said that there was something else before we were betrothed. I remember that. But he still felt the same then. The engagement was something for him to take advantage of,” said Loki. His gaze dropped to the ground. “And so was I.”

“Loki…”

“Maybe I am being melodramatic,” Loki said. “I don’t want to wallow. I know that I don’t wish to wax poetic about this, but I do know that he was going to be staying in Asgard anyway. He didn’t need to—”

Loki stopped dead at the feeling of Fandral squeezing his hand. He looked up to see Fandral frowning, eyes dark, leaning in closer. “Loki, forgive me, but did you two—?”

“No, no,” said Loki quickly.

Fandral nodded. “Did you want to?”

Loki said nothing.

Fandral sighed. He broke eye contact with Loki. “By Asgard. I’m sorry, Loki.”

“Whatever for?”

“This. All of this. All of this is terrible, and it’s been … it’s just been thrown at you.”

Loki shrugged.

Fandral moved even closer, and Loki could feel the warmth of his form as he said, “I know that you were upset when I expressed my suspicions of Tony, but I did that because you’re my friend. I worry.”

“I know.”

“You still have to marry him.”

“I know. And it’s not that I’m ecstatic about—What?”

Fandral was looking at him intently, eyes filled with some intense emotion that Loki couldn’t read. He was definitely out of sorts.

“You’re here because Tony would never come here,” Fandral said.

“Perhaps.”

“To be honest, I was surprised that you didn’t just demand that I leave.”

“I didn’t want you to,” said Loki. “You’re … you’re a more calming presence than most of the people I know.”

Fandral smiled. “Thank you. I do try.”

“Oh, I know,” said Loki.

Fandral squeezed his hand. “And you know, I never did think you’d get as far as you did with Tony.”

“And what does that mean?” Loki tried to sound gentle, having sensed the humor in Fandral’s tone. “I’m not—”

“It’s okay,” Fandral assured him, once again squeezing his hand. “I just didn’t think that you wanted that with Tony.”

“Mm. Well, I…”

“What?” Fandral prompted gently.

“Sometimes,” said Loki. He cleared his throat. “Sometimes I think we’re surprised by what we want.”

Fandral nodded. “Mm.”

The next—oh, Loki didn’t know how long, but it went by in a second—he felt Fandral move, somehow, even closer. Felt Fandral squeeze his hand again. Felt Fandral’s breath against his lips, and—

Loki stood. He almost stumbled on the rocks as he took several steps away from his friend. He didn’t want to Look as if he was fleeing. He didn’t want to _feel_ as if he was fleeing. But.

“I…” he managed.

“Loki.” Fandral stood too. His movements were smooth, graceful. “Loki, it’s alright.”

“Is it?”

Fandral nodded. He stepped forward, slowly, hands raised. He looked as if he thought that Loki might stampede him.

“I…” Loki’s nausea had returned. He felt as if his stomach might actually be making an escape attempt. “I should go.”

“Right.” Fandral coughed. “Of course. Really, I’m sorry, I—”

That was the last that Loki heard. He gave up on dignity and fled.

It felt like an instant later that he had locked the heavy doors of his chambers. The curtains were closed, the fire unlit. Mother would probably make some comment about the place being a freezer, but he didn’t care. He stumbled across the room and fell with full force onto his bed.

He was still reeling. Most of his thoughts seemed to have fled with him. He was sure that he would fall over if he tried to stand.

By Asgard, he felt like a fool. And that had all happened in seconds. Too quickly for him to act as he would have wanted, too quickly for him to process Fandral’s actions, to quickly for him to understand _why_ he would go for a kiss at such a time. He felt sick, he felt stupid, and he felt as if anything he did at that moment would be the wrong thing to do.

And, worst, he felt shaken with the realization that he really, really wanted to talk to Tony about what had just happened.

*

At the next meal, Rhodes announced that Tony wasn’t well enough to join them. He then said quietly to Thor that Tony was in fact refusing to leave his chambers, and punctuated the statement with a sideways glare at Loki.

Loki departed without word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr](http://librariankiss.tumblr.com) / [Twitter](https://twitter.com/librariankiss)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks all for reading! Your patience with my nonsense is much appreciated. 
> 
> [Tumblr](http://librariankiss.tumblr.com) / [Twitter](https://twitter.com/librariankiss)


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